Say It Again
by DemiandSelenaFan
Summary: Shane's image isn't looking so good. And soon a young girl, with an unknown past, is brought in to help him clean up his act, which leads to resentment from both sides of a couple who have to pretend they are madly in love. *Smitchie* AU
1. It's a Love Story?

**This is my very first Camp Rock multi chapter :) I really hope you like it. Thanks Abbie for beta'ing.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except Eddie. :)**

**Dedication: This whole fic is dedicated to Sarah (Abnormally-Sweet-Person). Because I love her to bits, and she is my Smitchie and Jemi twin. **

**You're awesome Sarah, and don't you forget it.**

You sit outside the conference room, trying to look like you're not listening to the conversation going on inside, when you very clearly are. Well it would be difficult not to hear, and watch, seeing as the walls are made of glass and the door has been left slightly ajar. You can see the three boys sitting on one side of the table, with a man in his early thirties sitting on the other. The boys are listening intently, one of them nodding every so often, while the older man talks. He talks with his hands, you notice, just like Sierra. Big flamboyant gestures, that kind of make you laugh, despite your current situation. You watch the boys facial features, and can tell that the man hasn't quite got to the good part yet, because they are all calm. Perhaps, you think, they are unaware that this meeting is special, and that they think this is all just normal.

You are pretty sure that bar the lady you showed you to the sofa you are now occupying, no one is aware you are even in the building. You just waltzed in, flashed a card _he_ gave you, and were immediately ushered to this corridor to await your fate.

You know thousands of girls would kill to be in your position. What you have been asked to do would be less of a chore for them, more of a dream come true. But that's why you were asked to do it, because you aren't a screaming fan girl, and you would just rather be at home. Not the house you're staying in right now, but home, with Sierra and a movie and popcorn, like the old times.

Suddenly as a bang echoes through the glass walls, you snap your head up, to see that one of the boys has stood up and has slammed his fist onto the wooden table. He is glaring at the man, who seems unfazed, and has continued talking. The other two boys are sitting in stunned silence, while the third is still seething. He looks incredibly angry and you for one are not looking forward to going in there, because it's going to get ugly.

For a second you watch him. His chest is heaving and his cheeks are flushed from his outburst, but in his brown eyes all you can see is confusion. He doesn't understand why he has to do this, what he has done to deserve this cruelty. And you just want to stand up and agree with him, and ask for your life back. Because right now you don't feel like this is real.

Then the older man is ushering for the younger boy to sit back down, and so he does, slowly, and looks at his band mates. They are looking at him in total confusion too. And you see him relax. They have no clue, and so he can trust them, they did not betray him. Lucky him. You have no one left. Or you do, but she is thousands of miles away in a state that no one ever thinks about.

You watch as the band members begin to have their say, often cutting off the older man. You don't really listen to what they say, just sit and watch them. They are angry, questioning, every now and again clenching their fists against the table.

You hum under your breath, and silently wonder why you bothered to show up. It sure as hell didn't look like they were going to see you today.

You throw your head back, so its resting on the back of the sofa, and stare at the white ceiling. You can no longer see the conference room, and as you begin to play around with some imaginary lyrics in your head, you pretend you are no longer in this skyscraper, no longer worried about what you've been asked to do, but you're with your guitar, you have a notebook filled with words and you are just playing. If you could be anywhere in the world right now, you would be just playing.

You wonder do the boys in the conference room ever do that. After all they are huge superstars, they get to perform in front of thousands of people. You've never even sung for Sierra, so you don't know whether having an audience makes the experience more exhilarating. Although you're pretty sure it does.

You dream of doing that someday. Just playing, only just playing in front of people. The stage fright you have overpowers you every time. At least you say its stage fright. Inside, you know it's because you have such low self esteem. You're not sure if you're good, and you're too afraid to try to find out in case you get shot down. You can deal with never singing for an audience, but being told you're no good. That would break your heart.

And then suddenly the door to the conference room is being thrown open, and you are faced with the man, who is smiling brightly at you.

"Miss Torres, please step right in. We are sorry to keep you waiting, we were just going over the final arrangements for our little facade," he apologises smiling.

'_More like telling them for the first time_,' you think, but you keep your mouth shut and you smile wide, because that is just who you are. You are in this all the way, you want the prize you have been offered, and so you're going to play the game.

"It's fine," you smile at him, rising from the red sofa, "and please call me Mitchie."

"Mitchie," he nods, and steps to the side to let you into the conference room. You gingerly walk in, taking your time. You can feel the boys' stares on you immediately, the anger in the atmosphere and the sense of hatred. You keep your eyes on the older man, who smiles and nods at you, as he makes his way around the table back to his seat. You follow him, still avoiding their gazes. You do not want to look at them yet, for fear of crying. You are suddenly wondering why you agreed to this. They all hate you already, and for one band member in particular you have just about ruined his life. At least for the next 6 months.

You lower yourself into a chair and then for the first time, raise your eyes to meet their stares. And you are hit with silent, intense fury. Saying these boys hate you is an understatement. They despise you, loathe you, and probably wish you were dead. Two pairs of deep brown eyes, and one pair of hazel ones. Maybe you could deal with one person hating you, but you are starting to think three may be just a little too much, and you feel the tears prick in the back of your eyes.

'_No,' _you tell yourself, _'be strong. They will not see you cry.'_

"So boys this is Mitchie Torres," the man is saying, and you try to concentrate, "Shane's... new partner. Now obviously you have to get to know one another a little better before..." You stop listening then. You've heard all this, _he's _told you it all the previous night. Then suddenly the man has produced two notebooks and one has been placed in front of you, the other in front of Shane.

You glanced at Shane, and for the first time it really hits you. This is Shane Grey, sitting right across from you. Shane Grey and the rest of Connect 3. Jesus Christ.

"These," the man is pointing at the notebooks, which have a plain white cover, "are your manuals. Yours Mitchie is for Shane, and vice versa." You look down at yours. The simplicity doesn't give away the fact that there is a life between the pages. The thickness of it scares you. You're supposed to learn it all.

Then you glance at yours, which Shane is staring at, his hands under the table, a blank look on his face. Yours is much thinner, you notice. Figures, seeing as you can't look up Mitchie Torres' favourite movie on Google. Everything in there, is anything he has learnt in the last week, and anything your mom has told him. It looks like it could be 20 pages at best, while Shane's looks like there is about 100, at least.

Then suddenly he is reaching up, and has flipped open the first page. His eyes scan the words, and his lips are pursed, as he reads. Then he is looking up, gazing at you with those hard eyes.

"Favourite ice cream?" he asks, as you frown, wondering why he is asking you. It's right there.

"Caramel, McFlurry," you said instantly. Man you love McDonalds. He scrunches his nose, looking at the page now, like he's disgusted.

Without looking up he reaches out his hand.

"Pen," he says and as if by magic the other man has conjured a pen and it's in Shane's hands. You watch as he scribbles furiously, then looks back at you. You must've been staring at him curiously because he explains.

"They said you liked Baked Alaska," he elaborates, and it's your turn to pull a horrified face. You can't eat any ice cream but the cheap fast food kind. You glance at the man sitting beside you.

"For a billion dollar record company you guys sure don't investigate well," you point out, and you don't miss the smile that the oldest member of the band, Jason, cracks. It's only there for a second, but it gives you that boost of confidence.

You open the first page of your manual and scan the words. It all seems oddly familiar, perhaps because you're sure all this stuff has been in magazines, and therefore recited numerous times by the female population of your old high school, back in Wyoming. Favourite colour: Green. Favourite drink: Dr. Pepper. Favourite Movie: Lilo and Stitch. That last one surprises you a little bit, but only because it's your favourite movie too.

"Best childhood memory?" you ask after flipping to a random page, trying to catch them out with a hard one.

"Summer in Vermont, with Nate and Jason," he replies instantly, like he is reading from the page. You sigh in defeat and lean back heavily on the chair you are sitting in.

You refuse to look at the others around the table, and stare at your hands, as the man strikes up a conversation with the boys. They are talking about the label, and the new record, and Shane's image.

You know he hasn't been behaving the best lately. It's in all the magazines, on Hot Tunes all the time. He is taking what he has for granted, and that angers you more than _he _does, more than your mother, more than the move. Millions of people would kill to be in his position and he is acting like he hasn't been blessed. Stupid boy.

You continue to pick at your nail polish, wondering what's going through their heads at the moment. You glance up, trying to figure it out by their facial expressions. Shane is visibly angry, and he is shooting daggers at the man, who is talking loudly beside you. If looks could kill, you and him would be long dead.

Your eyes flicker to Shane's left, to Jason. He is staring off into space, looking at something no one else can see. You think that maybe he is wondering what he'll eat for dinner, or what movie he'll watch when he gets home. He's not worried about anything, and while you're pretty sure he feels bad for Shane, he probably doesn't realise the effect it's going to have on his band mate.

Then you look to Shane's right. The youngest band member's eyes, unlike Jason's, are very much focused on the present. In fact they are staring at you. The glare he had for you earlier is gone. He is merely looking at you with intense curiosity. You guess that he is probably wondering what is in this for you. If things go the way the record company has planned you aren't going to come out of this looking like an angel. You know that though. When you stare back at him, and catch his eye, he blushes and adverts his eyes. You smirk a little to yourself.

You jump suddenly, as Shane jumps up again, and slams his fist onto the table.

"Sure she's here," he sends another withering look your way, "but who's saying I'm going along with this? I didn't sign up for this. I'm not obligated to do this."

The man sitting beside you looks up at Shane, who is heaving he is so angry.

"Come on Shane. Your image will improve, you'll sell more albums. It's a win-win situation for you," the man points out, trying to reason with Shane. You watch this little argument fascinated. It's clear to you that Shane has no respect for this man. He is merely some guy who works for him. Suddenly you feel sorry for this guy. He is just some man trying to man a living, and doing his best not to lose his temper with this jerk of a pop star.

"No, Mr..." you say, trailing off looking at the man.

"Eddie," he tells you.

"Eddie," you continue this time turning your attention to Shane. His blazing hazel eyes meet your equally fired up chocolate ones, "he isn't going to do it because Connect 3's album sales will increase, or to make himself look better to the media. No, Shane's going to do this, because _he_ said so." You stress that 'he', because you know that if the rumours are true, it'll take the band members merely seconds to register who you are talking about. Then you see it, as you hold Shane's gaze. The defiance drops and is replaced with fear. Absolute terror blazes in his hazel orbs, and you almost laugh at his shocked expression.

You look across to Nate, and even Jason, who are staring at you wide eyed. You chuckle sardonically.

"Yeah, didn't you figure it out, I'm _his_ daughter."

**Review please? **

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	2. I Was a Scarlett Letter

**Hey guys. Thank you for your twelve reviews. :) :D **

**I'm glad you like it. :)**

You watch as the boys sit there staring at you. They are very clearly in shock. You're pretty sure they had no idea about your existence. You want to welcome them to the club.

"But I didn't know _he_ had a daughter," Nate speaks for the first time. He is looking at you, squinting like he is trying to figure out if he has seen you before.

_No, _you want to tell him,_ you've never met me before. In fact two weeks ago I didn't even know I was who I am. _

"Neither, apparently, did he," you mutter under your breath. You think they can't hear you, but Shane shoots you a confused look, which soon turns to a death glare. You sigh and lean back in your chair, turning to Eddie.

"So how are we going to do this?" you ask. You're aware you and Shane can't just jump into a public relationship. He can't even look at you without grimacing. He's going to have to learn to pretend he loves you. That's quite a challenge. You wonder if he's up to it.

"Well you guys are all going to hang out," a collective groan is heard from the boys, and Eddie shoots them a warning look, as you ignore it, "get to know each other a little better, maybe meet some of Shane's friends. Then we'll go public with it."

You nod, agreeing. You stand then, pushing back your chair loudly, and picking up your Shane manual.

You nod at Eddie, and turn to the boys, who are watching you in silence.

"Nice to meet you," you say, making your way around the table, "I'll see you soon, I suppose."

Nate nods his head, Shane gives you another deadpanned stare, but you're surprised to see Jason smile.

"See you around Mitchie," he waves, and you feel the corners of your lips tug up slightly.

"Sure Jason."

You are half way down the hall when you hear Shane scream, "what was that?"

You stop and frown, afraid Jason is about to get some stick for being nice to you. Despite the fact that this is all fake, and you've never been a Connect 3 fan, you do have a soft spot for Jason. He always seemed so nice.

"What Shane? I was being polite, you should try it sometime," you laugh at Jason's retort. He may be sweet, and a little naive but he can certainly hold his own. Now all you have to do is hope you are capable of the same.

"They hate me Sierra," you complain into the phone, the next day, as you play with the lyrics on the page in front of you. You've been working on this particular song for ages but it just won't go right.

"_Mitchie, you are anything but hateable. I'm sure Shane is just a little shocked," _Sierra answers you. You wonder where she is exactly. Obviously she's in Wyoming, but is she in her room, out in the back yard or even at the café across from the church? You're suddenly hit by a wave of homesickness. You miss Sierra, when you were still in Wyoming you never went a day without seeing her.

"No Si, he looked like he wanted to rip my head off," you insist, crossing out another line in your song. Back to square one.

"_Well what about the others?" _she asks, and you can hear her shuffling paper. She is obviously doing some sort of homework or study. Typical of Sierra even during summer vacation. You sigh loudly.

"Nate seemed almost impartial, but Jason was nice I guess. He actually smiled," you admit, beginning to doodle on the margin of the page, giving up on the song.

"_That's good then," _she points out, "_at least you'll have someone to talk to."_

You sigh again.

"I suppose."

"_Mitchie cheer up. You're in L.A. This has been your dream since you were little," _Sierra, always the optimist, says. You want to be mad at her, you want to tell her it's okay for her, she is still at home, but you know shouting at her will get you nowhere.

"Yeah I just wish it would have come true a little differently," you groan a little as the call waiting sound beeps in your ear, "Sierra, I have to go, I have a call waiting. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"_Okay Mitchie. Remember to keep your chin up. Bye,"_ you laugh a little at the old saying Sierra always used to make you feel better. You raise your chin slightly, like she'd always make you do, even if she's not around to make sure you're obeying her orders.

Smiling slightly, you redirect your phone to the other call.

"Hello, Mitchie Torres speaking," you say as you begin to draw stars around the first verse of your song. You've manage that and a chorus since you arrived in L.A. but you've had song writer's block ever since.

"_Hello, Miss Torres, this is Eddie." _

You snap to attention, dropping your pen and sitting up straighter.

"Eddie, I told you to call me Mitchie."

"_Mitchie then. I'm just calling to let you know that there's a car coming to pick you up in 10. It'll take you to Shane's. The band and their friend will be there as well," _you begin to panic a little at Eddie's words. You have ten minutes and your hair is only in a messy bun, and you are currently wearing sweats.

"Okay," you find yourself agreeing.

"_I'll be there for the first little while. See you in fifteen Mitchie," _you are slightly relieved to hear he is going to be there. He has to like you, or he'll lose his job.

"Bye, Eddie," you hang up the phone, and immediately go into a frenzy. You have nothing to wear, your clothes are all still in boxes, and your hair looks a mess. You know you don't have to impress them, Shane is going to 'go out' with you anyway, but you want to look respectable. You're a girl at heart after all.

After ten minutes of frantically searching for something to wear, and trying to straighten your hair, you are standing at the front door, song book in hand, wearing flats, a pair of black skinnies and white tank top, coupled with an assortment of bracelets. You can't help but be pleased with yourself. It's not bad for ten minute's work.

You contemplate whether you should tell your mom and _him _where you are going, but you decided not to. They gave up any rights they had as parents when they messed with your life. You grab your guitar case (inspiration might just hit you) and walk out the door, slamming it loudly, in hopes that it wakes them.

You gasp just a little when you see the limo waiting in front of your new 'home'. Sure the place you live in now is a mansion, but limos have always seemed so glamorous to you. Only people going to prom got limos where you lived, and you -being 16- had obviously never gotten the chance to ride in one.

You gingerly open the door, and climb inside, sliding across the plush leather seat.

"Oh Miss Torres, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. I would have opened the door," you glanced up the extended car to place a face to the voice. An older man, in a suit, and wearing a hat, is sitting at the driver's seat, and has turned around to face you. He has a greying beard, and is watching you with concerned blue eyes.

"It's fine," you say, smiling at him, as he smiles back, "and call me Mitchie, please."

"I'm Alan, Mitchie, Mr. Gray's chauffer," he began, turning back around and starting the car, "this drive won't be too long, maybe ten minutes."

"Okay, thanks Alan," you say settling into the seating, and mindlessly drum your fingers on your black guitar case.

"Thank you," you say to Alan as you climb out of the limo ten minutes later, while he holds the door open for you.

"No problem Mitchie," you barely hear him and you take in Shane Grey's house.

"Holy shit," you mutter under your breath. It's huge, possibly the biggest house you've ever seen bar the White House. You thought _his_ house was nice, but Shane's outshines it by a mile. Alan has dropped you by the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door. You climb them, bypassing the columns, trying not to drop your guitar, because you're shaking so hard.

You reach the huge door, and cautiously reach out to ring the doorbell. You are really afraid of who's going to answer. Shane you could deal with, but if it's a butler, which you half expect, you may faint. You're a small town girl from Wyoming, and you are not used to this kind of lavish lifestyle. For heaven's sake, you had a cow back home.

You thank your blessings when a moment later the door swings open to reveal Eddie, holding a blackberry in one hand and his other one pressed up against the blue tooth device in his ear.

"Yes, I understand, of course," he says, motioning for you to come inside. You step into the hallway and are once again shocked by the extravagance. The ceiling is double height, painted white, with these fancy engravings. There are two huge marble staircases, joining at the top.

You spin around slowly, as Eddie continues to talk into the blue tooth. You must look awestruck, and like a child, because you are so astounded by Shane's hall, but you don't care. It's amazing.

Eddie points down a corridor leading off the hall, and still talking to the person on the other line, begins to lead you down it. You follow quietly, taking it all in.

"Of course I can have her there," Eddie says, glancing back at you. You begin to concentrate on his conversation. He is talking about you, like you're not there. For some reason this doesn't get to you like it would have before. You're pretty sure once you and Shane go public people are going to talk about you all the time. You'll be with the Shane Grey after all.

Eddie reaches a door, and without looking at you, pushes it open. You catch your breath expecting to be faced with Connect 3 and their friend Eddie mentioned. Instead Eddie begins to descend the stairs he has just revealed. You follow him, a little afraid now. You are in a strangers house, with a stranger, and no one knows where you are. And to top in all off, you are being led into the basement of said house.

You are slightly relieved when you reach the end of the stairs, and are in a bright hallway, painted red, with framed pictures lined up along each side, with separate lights shining on each one.

You walk slowly, taking in each photo. Shane with Nate and Jason, looking rather young, standing on a pier of sorts, beside a lake. Shane, not much older, holding his record contract with a huge smile on his face. You wonder how long it's been since he smiled like that. If you believe everything the tabloids say, you'd guess quite a while.

The next photo is Connect 3 on stage, Shane singing into a microphone, still smiling broadly. You guess that this must have been one of his first concerts. He looks so excited to be there. It's the way you image you look every time you see a guitar.

The next is of Shane and who you imagine to be his parents. A smiling couple, you can see Shane got his hair and bone structure from his dad, but his eyes and smile from his mom. Again he looks happy, standing outside McDonalds, having his picture taken with his parents. He looks older in this photo, like it was taken less than a year ago. You add it up in your head. A little bit before he started to get an attitude.

The next photo is not actually a photo but a silver record, encased in a frame. You know this must be for Connect 3's first platinum selling album. It is quickly followed by two more. The next photo you come to is off Shane and Aretha Franklin. You do a double take at that. Shane has met your idol. You are suddenly extremely jealous. You were a little before, but now... you'd give anything to have been in his place. You realise you and Eddie are reaching the end of the hallway. You jog a little to catch up with him, but you manage to catch a glimpse of the last picture. It's Shane again, but he looks grumpy, and another girl, you recognise as Tess Tyler. Shane's ex. She is smiling at the camera, but you laugh because you see that someone has drawn a pair of devil horns, and a moustache over her face in black permanent marker.

Eddie has come to a door, the end of the hallway. He hangs up his call and turns to you. This is it, you think, the official start of this messed up 'journey' you're about to embark on.

"You ready?" Eddie asks you, and you grip your guitar case tighter, and nod sharply.

He pushes the door open, and you are pretty sure your jaw has dropped open. You have to pinch yourself to make sure it's real. You are standing in the control room of a recording studio. Albeit a small one, but still. A real life recording studio. You can't help but grin. Then you remember when you are, and that this isn't real, and you regain your composure. You take in the room you are standing in, and the separate room where Connect 3 are singing into microphones. It's a song you've never heard, and you come to the conclusion that they have failed to notice your arrival because they have continued singing. The song has a wicked beat, and you find yourself bobbing your head in time to the track. It sounds like their old stuff, like the Connect 3 music you actually liked. You watch them for a second, as they sing. They look so into it, like they belong there. All three of them have their eyes closed, and it's just them and music. Your gaze flickers to Shane, and lands there for a moment. The frown he was wearing yesterday is gone, and you marvel at how young he looks. You forget for a moment that he is eighteen, and you are sixteen, and for a second you, Shane, Nate and Jason are just ordinary teenagers again, you don't have this publicity stunt hanging over your heads, and you guys could be real friends. And then reality hits you, and you realise that no, you are never going to be real friends with these boys who obviously share your passion with music. Even before you met them, any form of friendship was bound to be fake.

Instead of dwelling on this though, you turn your attention to the girl sitting in the same part of the recording studio as you. She has hazel curls, and is wearing red skinnies, and a white print t-shirt. She is sitting at the controls, tweaking a few things, and tapping her converse to the beat of the song.

"_What did I do to your heart  
Tell me, What did I do to your heart  
Did I break it, apart  
Did I break it, your heart..."_

You watch as the boys finish the song, and they come down from that high they were on. Jason blinks his eyes open first, and smiles and waves when he sees you through the glass. The girl sitting in control room frowns and turns to face you. Her face looks shocked when she sees Eddie and you, standing there silently, with guitar case in hand.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, how long have you been there?" she asks, rising from her swivel chair, and striding across the small room. She holds out her hand and you take it in yours, shaking in once, before dropping it again. She smiles at you, brightly, and you're a little scared. Shane's friends are supposed to hate you.

"Only a minute," Eddie says, not looking up from his blackberry, which is frantically typing on.

"I'm Caitlyn," she says, grinning toothily. You glance over her shoulder to see Connect 3 joining you, Caitlyn and Eddie in the control room.

"Mitchie," you return the smile, genuinely. It's the first time you've really smiled at another person since you've come to L.A. You like Caitlyn already.

"Nice to meet you Mitchie." You nod at her, stilling smiling slightly.

"Mitchie," Jason says, smiling at you too, "nice to see you again."

Nate for his part gives you a curt nod, while Shane avoids your gaze completely and sits down in the chair Caitlyn has recently vacated.

You all stand in awkward silence for a moment. All you can hear is Shane twiddling with the controls and Eddie's tapping on his Blackberry. Then suddenly, as you watch Caitlyn's eyes wander the room a thought occurs to you.

"Why didn't Caitlyn do it?" you turn to Eddie, and he looks up from his phone, "Go out with Shane? I mean at least he can stand her."

Eddie, for his part raises his eyebrows at you, and motions for you to look back at the others. Jason, for his part, is looking into space and biting his lip. But it's not even Shane's horrified expression or Caitlyn's disgusted one that tells you why Eddie didn't set it up to be Caitlyn and Shane. Of the three people staring at you, it's Nate's face that gives it away. His features are etched with anger mixed with a hint of pain. It hits you then. Nate is very much in love with Caitlyn, and he'd kill Shane if he dated her, even if it was fake.

You face Eddie again, grinning a little.

"Ah," you say, and he nods, because it's clear to you that he knows exactly what you are talking about.

"I just couldn't have them killing each other," he says, and you nod sympathetically. You turn back to the other four confused teenagers. You roll your eyes at them, they are looking at you like you are spouting gibberish. Although, you'd bet your life Nate is looking at you like he's begging you not to elaborate.

"So," Eddie says, and you turn away from Connect 3 and Caitlyn, "your first public appearance is next week at Shane's uncle's wedding. I expect you both to have read the manuals and discussed them both by then. I look forward to seeing you as a couple. Goodbye Mitchie."

Eddie nods at you, and you give him a small wave with your free hand, suddenly growing nervous. You were okay with Eddie around, at least you had someone to talk to. Now he's gone and you are stuck in a small recording studio with 4 people who hate you. Fun.

"Sit down Mitchie," Caitlyn motions to a sofa at the back of the room, and you move towards it, following her. You place yourself on the red leather sofa, and lower your guitar case on the ground. Caitlyn sits down to your right, and Jason to her right. Nate remains leaning against the far wall, and Shane doesn't move from the swivel chair.

"You play?" Nate asks suddenly, and you jump a little in your seat, from the shock of being addressed.

You glanced down at your guitar case and shrug.

"I guess," you answer, smiling a little despite yourself, because that's what music does to you.

"More importantly," Caitlyn says, bouncing a little in her seat, "do you write?"

Everyone, bar Shane, are staring at you. Caitlyn's eyes are merely curious, Jason's friendly and Nate's are stony.

"Yeah, I do," you can't help smiling again. You love music so much, that even in the worst of situations it brightens your mood. Caitlyn smiles at your grinning face.

"Will you play something for us?" she asks excitedly, and you cringe away from her expectant face. Clearly she loves music, just as much as you do, and isn't just curious as to want yours sounds like, but almost needs to know. It's written all over her pretty features.

"Maybe some other time…" you bite your lip nervously, and avoid Caitlyn's disappointed gaze.

"Come on Mitchie," Jason pipes up, leaning forward so he can see you from around the back of Caitlyn, "we'd love to hear something."

You can feel it in the air then. Nate is staring hard at you, and Jason and Caitlyn are looking at you early. You are going to lose this fight, and are going to have to play at some point or another.

"How about, we just talk about those manual things…" you trail off uncertain, because you kind of wanted to avoid the whole 'fake relationship' thing for a while, but you see no other way to get out of playing. You just don't feel comfortable singing in front of people you don't know, especially as it would be you're first time, ever.

"Yeah, let's," you shiver, and not in a good way, as Shane's voice fills the room. He spins around on the chair, to face you all, your manual magically conjured into his hands, before leaning over and slamming it on the coffee table in front you, and you flinch a little.

"Why in the world is your life so boring?" he asks, glaring at you.

Caitlyn and the boys are watching you, seeing what you'll do, while you meet his gaze, your eyes just as stony as his.

"My life is not boring," you counter, your voice indignant.

"Yeah it is," he scoffs you, and you roll your eyes, "you don't do anything. No parties. No friends, no nothing."

"I'm so sorry Shane," you tell him, narrowing you glare, your voice is coated with sarcasm, "that my life isn't as interesting as yours. And I'm really sorry, that there are no accounts in there about how I managed to get drunk, head back to a hotel room with 5 girls, and have the pictures splashed across every national magazine the next morning."

"Typical," he scoffs at you again, rolling his eyes, "judge everything by what you read."

"There were pictures!" you point out, standing, as he does, your chest heaving, and your eyes blazing. He may get away with talking to other people like that, but there is no way in hell he's going to be able to do that with you, "and look around. I don't see your _band mates_ or _friends_, jumping in to correct me."

You are standing on either side of the coffee table staring each other down. And much to your surprise he is the one who breaks.

"Whatever. It's not like your opinion matters. I sing for millions, and I bet you can't even carry a tune," Shane spits at you. This hurts, but it's not like you're going to let him know that.

"Yes, I can," you argue, and he raises his eyebrows skeptically.

"Prove it," he orders, but holds up a hand when you open your mouth to start singing, "at my Uncle's wedding. In front of everyone."

You're stunned into silence at this request. You don't know what to do. Agree and prove your point, but have to sing in front of everyone, or disagree, and have Shane win. And you've never been one for losing.

"Fine," you nod, your head and turn to pick up your guitar case, and songbook.

"Great, I look forward to seeing you humiliate yourself," he sneers in your direction, before you shake your head giving up.

"Whatever Shane," you shrug, "just call Alan, I don't feel like sticking around where I'm not wanted."

His spiteful face slips and he looks at you, confused.

"Who's Alan?" he asks, and it's your turn to roll your eyes.

"Your driver Shane," you tell him, disgusted that he doesn't even know the name of the man than carts him around to all his celebrity parties, "doesn't matter anyways. I'll walk, it's not far. Bye, Caitlyn, Jason, Nate."

You open the door back into the hallway, waving at them before heading off home. You glance again at the picture of Tess Tyler and Shane, and you scrunch your nose up in disgust. And you can't help but think: I can't believe I have to fakedate _that. _

**What's the deal with Mitchie's dad? Why are they so afraid of him? :P **

**And Mitchie and Shane really hate each other :)**

**Next chapter Mitchie sings :)**

**I hope you liked it. **

**Review please :D**


	3. See the Party, the Ballgowns

**I'm sorry for the delay. I was away at camp, and then some stuff is going on with me at the moment. Anyway, hope you enjoy this. :)**

**Thank you for the 17 reviews. :) I love each and every one :D**

**Disclaimer(just in case I forgot it): I own nothing, for any chapters. **

Sighing you clip a curl behind your ear with a bobby pin, and straighten out your black dress. You've never been to a wedding, and when you caught your mom for two seconds the only piece of advice she gave you was 'don't wear white.' You knew that much already. Lately, your relationship with your mother has gone down the drain, and you can't remember the last time you wanted to be around her anymore. She's gone from being your best friend to a woman you barely know, just someone you live with. It surprises you how little you care.

Glancing at your watch, you sigh again, and head down the stairs. At first, you must admit, you were a tiny bit thrilled to move into such a large house, because it was way bigger than anything you'd ever seen before, but now, it's just an empty shell, with even emptier rooms. You'd give everything, just to be back in your old house, with just your mom and Sierra just down the street. _He_ managed to ruin everything.

You close the door quietly behind you, careful not to wake them. Then on second thought, you open the door again, and slam it shut. It's 12pm already. They should be up.

Making your way down the drive way, you see Alan pull up on the curb. Right on time, impressive. Alan has his door half way open, but you wave him away and climb in yourself. You're Shane's fake girlfriend, that doesn't mean you can't open car doors by yourself.

You've gotten yourself comfortable, and straightened the end of your dress, before you realize you're not alone.

"Hey Mitchie!" Caitlyn greets you from further up the limo, on the seat that stretches along the side.

"Hey Caitlyn," you wave at her, and smile lightly, before she begins to scoot down the leather seats towards you.

Her hazel curls are straightened and pulled back into a tight bun, a single curl hanging loosely around her cheek. She is wearing a tight red skirt, with a pretty white blouse, and a black leather jacket. You'd say she doesn't look anything like the first time you saw her, if it wasn't for the black chucks she is wearing too.

"Shane sent me to pick you up," she tells you, but you know she's lying because her eyes flick away from yours for just a second, "the ceremony was beautiful. Dee- the bride- looked stunning."

You nod again, before giving her a skeptical look.

"Did Shane really send you?" you ask, and she bites the inside of her cheek looking uncomfortable. You knew it.

"Well, Jason said someone should probably go with the limo to pick you up, and I offered. Then Shane kind of shrugged," Caitlyn admits, and you just can't help it, with that sad, 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look on her face, she looks comically guilt stricken. So you laugh, and then you can't stop laughing, and soon Caitlyn is laughing too, though you're not quite sure whether it's with you or at you.

When the laughter dies down, you look up to see that Alan has rolled down the window that separates his cab from the back of the limo, and is looking at you in the rear view mirror, concerned.

"You girls okay?" he asks, a slight smirk on his lips. Caitlyn nods, still grinning, and you smile broadly and her before declaring, "yeah, I think we're going to be just fine."

\_/

You're kind of excited, when you eventually reach the venue. You've never been to a wedding before, much less a wedding with a date. Well a fake date, but details don't matter much right now. You're star struck already. You don't even know who Shane's uncle is, but you did overhear your mom and _him _talking about the wedding yesterday and it sounded like he was some celebrity from back in the eighties, or something.

"They'll be arriving after the pictures, in like half an hour," Caitlyn tells you, as you follow her into the hotel. It's a beautiful venue, and when you walk into the dining hall, you have to catch your breath. It's decorated solely in white with the baby pink centre pieces, and pink bows around chairs. There must be around 20 tables for 10 in the room, although most of them are empty, with the odd seat already occupied. Caitlyn is peering at a board, which you assume has the seating plan on it, and tracing a manicured nail along a long list of people.

You continue to look around the room, before Caitlyn ends up at your side.

"We're sitting at the head table!" she squeals excitedly, and you're left standing alone, as she races toward the one rectangular table at the far end of the dining hall, that stretches from wall to wall. You follow, at a much slower pace, and only glance back once over your shoulder to see that people have begun to flood through into the room.

"Why would they sit us at the head table?" you ask standing across from her, as she takes her seat. You're utterly confused. You haven't even met the bride and groom, and yet they've seated you at the table reserved for their closest family and friends.

"Well technically I'm Nate's date," a broad grin eats up your face, and you can't be sure, because she turns away, but you'd swear you saw Caitlyn blush, "and you're Shane's date, and they're in the wedding party. So like, yeah…" she trails off, as her eyes wander to the door, and you turn to see what she is staring at.

You glance back at Caitlyn again (she is smiling to herself), when you spot Nate and Shane entering the dining hall. They both look much happier than you've ever seen them, and after Nate waves to Caitlyn, he even raises his hand to you, with a smile, something you'd thought you'd never see.

"Mitchie!" you turn to the sound of a familiar voice and find Jason standing behind you, across the table, beside Caitlyn, his arm looped around a girl (his date you presume). She is tall, with dark blonde curls, and sea blue eyes.

"Hey Jason," you smile at him, and nod to his date.

"This is Willow, my girlfriend," he introduces you and you reach across to shake her hand, "Willow this is Mitchie, Shane's girlfriend."

You take note of the fact that Willow isn't in on the secret, and remind yourself to not slip up when she is around.

"Nice to meet you Mitchie," she says. She's extremely soft spoken, and almost the total opposite of Jason. You think maybe that's good for him.

"The pleasure's all mine," you answer politely, before starting to make your way around the table. Caitlyn motions to her left, and you peer at the place card, to see your name in silver calligraphy.

"Shane's next to you, and the groom beside him. Shane's the best man," you nod, as you take your seat. The dining hall is almost full by now, and the bridesmaids (dressed in baby pink) are taking their seats with their dates on the other end of the table. You assume the newlyweds are an older couple, seeing as the bridesmaids are in their 40's and the groom is Shane's uncle.

"Hey Caity," you look up to see Nate taking his place beside Caitlyn, and he smiles down at her. They seem lost in their own little world for a moment, before Nate clears his throat and turns to face the rest of the hall. You look up to your left and see Shane. He is smiling and nodding at someone in the crowd and hasn't glanced at you yet. But when his eyes catch yours the grin falls, and his hazel eyes turn to stone, which manages to send a shiver down your spine. The memory of the last time you both talk to each other resurfaces, and the anger you felt returns. This is going to be _fun. _

"Hey, baby," you grin up at him, and he forces a smile to you, for the benefit of the watching bridesmaids.

He takes his seat beside you, and leans to the right, so it looks like he's whispering sweet nothings to you.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you embarrass yourself later," you roll your eyes, and laugh a little. It all feels fake and stupid, but from the perspective of the rest of the room, you know it'll look like you're giggling at something 'incredibly sweet' he's said.

You're about to retort, but suddenly the whole room goes silent and a man standing by the doors of the dining room, clears his throat, demanding attention.

"Presenting to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Brown Cessario," he says and you rise as the whole room does, and applaud the couple. You rise on the balls of your feet, trying to catch a glimpse of them.

And when you finally do see them they take your breath away. You were right, and they are an older couple, but the bride looks stunning, in a simple, elegant ivory dress, with her hair casual curls, and the groom is in a smart suit, and looks well put together. But it's not exactly their appearances that make you catch your breath. It's the way, even though they are in a crowded room, they only have eyes for each other, and you can see how tightly they are gripping each other's hands. Like they won't ever let go.

"Wow," you breathe out, "they look amazing."

Shane's stunning smile drops and his eyes turn to you. They are filled with something vicious.

"I'm sure you so mean that sincerely," he snarls at you.

"Image," you hiss, before smiling sweetly at him, "and I do mean it. Your Aunt and Uncle look perfect together."

He looks down at you, scrutinizing you for a second, before the two of you lower yourselves back into your seats.

You glance at Caitlyn who smiles sympathetically, before you turn and try not to cry at the thought of another 3 months with him and this stupid fake relationship.

\_/

After the meal is served, and the couple and Shane and the maid of honor have made their speeches (which brought tears to your eyes, even Shane's), and the newlyweds have had their first dance (to a song by Connect 3, who played live) , you stay in your seat, sipping your drink, watching Nate and Caitlyn dancing slowly, to a song you don't know, being performed by some live singer that the older guests seem to know. They're whispering to each other, giggling and being so cute, it almost makes you sick. You really don't understand why they're not a couple already. They sure act like it.

Shane disappeared a long time ago, and you were left to make small talk with a woman who's nose sounded so clogged, you were sorely tempted to offer her a tissue.

"I have nasal issues," she drawled, when you asked was she feeling alright. A minute later, she had stormed away from you, leaving you confused as to what you did wrong.

Now you're stuck in your seat, bored, while attempting to look like you're enjoying yourself.

"Mitchie?" you turn to the sound of your name and find yourself looking up at the bride, and groom. They are still smiling brightly, and you rise from your seat, your lips curving upwards.

"Mitchie Torres," you reach out to shake the grooms hand, and then kiss the bride on the cheek, "thank you so much for having me here. Congratulations."

The groom has his arm wrapped tightly around the bride's waist, and he hugs her closer as he nods to you.

"You're welcome Mitchie," he says, "I'm Brown, Shane's uncle. This is Dee, my wife." They share a secret smile for a second, like it's the best thing they've ever heard. Husband and wife. It makes you smile too.

"It's nice to meet you," you say, and they smile again, before Dee's face falls.

"Shane says he's looking for you. Something about a song before the disco gets going," you nod and suddenly feel the blood drain from your face, and your heart speeds up. You'd kind of pushed the thought from your mind throughout the reception, trying not to think of it. You really don't want to have to get up there in front of everybody, most of whom are somehow involved in the music business, whether they be producers or long ago superstars.

This thought makes you peer closer at Brown, when you recall over hearing your mother's and _his_ conversation.

Then it hits you.

"Oh my god, you're Brown Cessario, of the White Crows," you can feel your eyes widen, and you almost jump at him, "I mean I got the name before, but I didn't realize it was _you_. I'm a huge fan." He smiles at you, and you feel your face break out in a grin that eats up your cheeks.

"Great. I always love meeting fans. I can't wait to hear you sing," the excitement slips again, "Shane says you're excited to sing for a bigger audience."

You have the urge to punch Shane, as Brown divulges this information, but you fake the smile again, and nod, "well I'd better get going."

They head towards the bridesmaids, and you head down towards the dancers and stage. You reach the dance floor and begin to push your way through the bodies towards the raised platform. In the midst of all the couples, you feel a hand on your upper arm.

You turn to find Caitlyn, and Nate standing a few feet behind her. You catch sight of their hands, which remain entwined, fingers laced together.

"You looking for Shane?" she asks, shouting slightly above the music and biting her lip and looking sorry for you.

You nod, and she points towards the stage.

"He's on the right hand side, talking to Sander," she tells you, and Nate glances up at you from behind her.

"Good luck Mitchie," he calls, above the music, and you nod in appreciation. He doesn't seem so bad anymore, Nate. Maybe he's warming up to you.

"Thanks," you say, and leave them so they can back to their 'friendly' dancing. Your heart in your mouth you reach the edge of the stage, and make your way to where you can see Shane, talking to a good looking teenage boy with dark skin, and a cool style that reminds you of Caitlyn.

You set your jaw, and steel your resolve, reminding yourself you want to sing for a reason. You're going to prove to Shane that you're not afraid, that you can actually do it. You know somewhere deep inside you also want to prove to him, and to yourself, that you're worthy of being a pop star's girlfriend. You're not just some airhead girl looking for fame, and you want the world to know that.

"Shane," you say, reaching him, and after the boy (Sander you assume) looks at you strangely for a second, you thread your fingers through Shane's. Shane manages to smile down at you.

"Hey babe," it's almost scary how convincing he is. You thought he'd actually be bad at it, that people would question his sincerity, but he really sounds like he means it.

"You ready for your performance?" he asks, glancing away from Sander, and down at you. You see the malice in his hazel eyes for just a second, before its gone, and his gaze in back on Sander.

"Mitchie's going to sing," he tells a bewildered Sander who then smiles at you.

"Awesome, you into music then?" he asks, and you relax a little realizing that he's not going to be like Shane, and he's not going to be hostile.

"Yeah," you nod, "I like to write and stuff, but I'd really like to get into the whole producing side of it, and see who that works too." Sander's smile has grown broader, and he nods.

"Cool. I'm into dancing, and a bit of rapping on the side. I've actually been a dancer on a couple of Connect 3 tours," he tells you, and you nod, honestly interested.

"Is that where you and Shane met?" you ask, consciously making the effort to lean in a little closer to Shane, who stiffens at your side, before you feel him a relax a second later.

"We actually met in grade school, Mitchie. We were looking for a dancer, and I remembered that Sander could dance," Shane speaks this time, and it surprises you. From the way he's told it, it sounded like he'd actually done something nice for Sander, out of the goodness of his heart. You weren't really aware he had a heart.

"Really?" Sander nods, as if to confirm the story, because your voice is lain with skepticism.

"Well, enough of this idle chit chat," Shane says, and the song comes to an end, "it's Mitchie's time to shine." The singer on stage walks off, and suddenly Shane's hand is gone, and replacing it is a guitar. Shane is then on the stage, introducing you, and as you climb the steps, you don't miss the vicious grin he gives you.

God, he's such a jerk.

Then you're in front of the two hundred plus guests, and they're all looking up at you waiting for you to start singing, in complete silence. You spot Caitlyn and Nate in the crowd, standing beside one another, and Caitlyn shoots you a reassuring smile.

"Hello," you shallow nervously, and swing the strap of the guitar over your shoulder, "this is a song I wrote for a very special guy… I hope you enjoy it." You clear your throat, place your fingers on the right strings, and open your mouth to start singing, but just before the first sound comes out a huge bang echoes through the room. Everyone swings around, away from you, and your eyes travel to the doors which have now been thrown open to reveal a blonde girl, absentmindedly checking her nails, like she hasn't just made a scene.

And then, as if to confirm your worst nightmare, someone speaks from the crowd.

"Tess?"

**Okay, so don't shoot me… I lied Mitchie didn't get to sing. :S Sorry. :P**

**Why do you think Tess turned up to the wedding? Did you like this chapter?**

**Review please?**


	4. We'll Make It Out Of This Mess

**God, I am so sorry for the wait. It's been far far too long. But a lot has been going on, stuff I couldn't deal with. I hope you can forgive me. And thank you so much for the reviews. Updates should come weekly from now on. **

**And a special thanks to ****pink lemonade 89**** who left a review. She's one of my favorite Camp Rock authors, and it literally made my day when I got it :)**

**Chapter 4**

There is an audible beat of silence, where in nearly the whole wedding stares at Tess, while you scan the crowd and find Nate and Caitlyn again. Caitlyn's eyes are narrowed, and you are sure you can see her lip curling slightly. You remember the devil horns drawn on the picture of Tess back at Shane's place, and at that moment, you know for sure that it was Caitlyn's doing.

Nate on the other hand, seems a lot calmer. His eyes widened at bit, you'll admit, but on the whole he appears more relaxed, which makes you wonder. After a moment his eyes move from Tess, and search the room, like yours did a moment ago. He evidently finds who he is looking for, and you watch as he taps Caitlyn on the shoulder, and she pulls her glare from Tess, and following Nate's gaze, as you do too, finds Shane staring at the blonde, his mouth hanging open, and his eyes like saucers. You're not too sure, but as someone beside him shifts, you're pretty certain that you catch a glimpse of him gripping the side of the stage, like he's afraid he's about to fall over. It makes you question their relationship, his and Tess'. You heard their breakup was nasty, but seeing Shane like that makes you think it was a lot worse than you imagined.

The silence drags on longer than necessary, and you clear your throat, more out of habit that anything else, and the sound echoes through the dining hall, and it takes you a second to realize you're still up close to the microphone, and that everyone heard you. The attention turns from Tess to you, and you feel the heat rise to your face quickly, as all eyes land on you. You instantly forget about Shane, and how shocked he looked, and become focused on your own impending public humiliation. The stage fright, which minutes ago you thought you were about to overcome, returns, and you know that if you were to even attempt singing, it would just come out as a warbled choking noise, and you'd never again get the courage to get up on a stage.

"Sorry," you manage to say, and you're pretty confident that your voice didn't go up _too_ many octaves, "we're having some, um, technical difficulties." A whisper shoots through the crowd again, this time presumably about the fact that Shane's current (fake) girlfriend has decided to cancel her performance right after Shane's ex walks in. You try not to think of how suspicious that looks as you hurry off the stage, passing the guitar to a man who holds out his hand for it with a smile, and move towards the last spot you saw Shane in. He's not there though, when you reach it a second later, and you pause unsure of what to do, before someone's hand closes around your upper arm, and you spin around to find yourself face to face with Caitlyn, whose eyes are wild, flicking from you to the crowd and back again.

"We've got to find him," she whispers to you, and as she does, you suddenly feel all the eyes staring at the two of you. They are all listening, waiting for you and Caitlyn to give something away. And you fear she has. Her voice is low, desperate and pleading. There is obliviously something you don't know, and Caitlyn is begging you with her eyes to look past the way Shane has been acting towards you and help her.

You nod, once and sharp, and she lets go of you, heading off through the bodies. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear the DJ start the music up, and say something about getting the party started, as the lights dim, but you barely hear him. All you can think about is Shane's face, and then Caitlyn's expression. Tess has brought back memories, bad ones evidently, for both of them, and Caitlyn is worried about Shane. Which leads you to question how awful the memories really are.

You keep your eyes on Caitlyn, following her, as she glances back at you, biting her lip. You surge forward again, as if the look on her face gives you more determination to find him. She has been nice to you, the nicest in L.A. by a mile, and now she looks absolutely terrified. You want to help.

But just as suddenly as she appeared, she disappears, and you are left alone amongst the guests, as some move towards the table, but the majority begin to dance.

"Caitlyn?" the music is so loud now, that you barely hear your own voice.

"Shit," you curse, and look around, but even in heels almost everyone else towers over you, and you are lost. Sighing, you set your jaw and begin to push again.

Two months ago if someone had told you you'd be at Brown's wedding, searching for Shane Grey, your fake pop star boyfriend who hates you, because his ex turned up uninvited, you'd have called them crazy, and got them an appointment to see a psychiatrist. But you are here, and not for the first time, you get the overwhelming urge to run away, hop on a plane, and go home. You know Sierra will be waiting, with a cup of cocoa and a smile. She will be waiting with familiar surroundings, with people who remind you of safety. You could leave all this drama behind, and never have to look back again. You do almost walk out the door then, because just thinking about Wyoming makes going back so tempting, until Caitlyn's face flashes in front of your eyes, and that recording studio in Shane's basement, and you remember why you agreed to all of this is the first place. You want a chance to share your music with the world. You're doing this because you love to play.

You're at the tables now, and you weave your way through them, making sure you don't miss a single seat, looking out the whole time for any member of Connect 3 or Caitlyn. It's much harder looking for them in the dark, and the disco light that have started up only bathe certain areas in misty red, green and blue lights for a couple of seconds, before they spin away again.

You're glad that everyone on the dance floor seems to be having a good time, and even the people who are sitting down seem to be smiling and chatting happily. And despite what Shane thinks you are happy for Brown and Dee. He's lucky to have such a great aunt and uncle. You only wish you had relatives like that.

When you reach the main table (to find it empty), without any success, you stop and turn to face the crowd again. You're not sure what to do next, where to go next, what to try next.

Then something blocks your view of everyone, and you find you're staring into the iciest blue eyes you have ever seen. They are narrowed, glaring hard at you, and you take a sharp step backwards, groping for the table behind you to steady yourself and you hold on tight and straighten up. If you had worn flats the girl in front of you would have towered above you, but your ridiculously high stilettos gives you the extra height, so that it is you who is taller. This makes her seem slightly less intimidating.

Tess pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, and draws in a breath. Somehow she manages to make even that look threatening.

"Are you Michelle Torres?" she asks, and you can't help but notice that her upper lip twists horribly at the sound of your name, and that her eyes narrow just that little bit more.

When you were younger you used to look up to Tess Tyler, and to her mom. A girl who was but a year old than you, who had a bright career, that you wanted, ahead of her. She had the super star mom, and the cool clothes, and the life, and all her dreams were coming true. She was your idol, until her management (she was 14 and had _management_) announced that she was dating Shane Grey. Even at that point you disliked him, and her bad taste in guys made her come tumbling from the pedestal you had her sitting on.

"It's Mitchie," you say, and even you are aware of the attitude in your voice. You were never one for standing up for yourself back home, but for some reason meeting Tess has been even more of a letdown than you've thought it would be for the last three years, and that manages to make you mad.

"Mitchie," she nods, but in an offhand way that makes it seem like she couldn't care less, "right. Shane's new girlfriend." She sneers again as she says the last word, and you can't help but wonder does she know. She almost seems to be mocking you, like she really doesn't believe that 'girlfriend' is the appropriate word.

"That's me," you confirm, and you try to add pride to your voice. And somehow, it doesn't come across half bad to you.

She takes a step closer to you then, so you are almost nose to nose, and has a wicked smirk on her face that makes you want to cower in fear.

"Believe that all you want, Mitchie, but Shane has always been mine, always will be mine," she tells you, and you, for some reason, are sorely tempted to slap her across the face.

"Really? Last I checked, he doesn't seem to like you all that much," you shoot back at her, and she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, as if she expected you to just sit back and let her walk all over you.

"Whatever," she waves you off, and takes a step back, and the tension, the feeling that someone is about to hurt the other, ebbs away. She shrugs, "we'll see."

With that she's gone, and you're left alone again, wondering if she was ever really there in the first place.

You frown as the scene replays in your mind. It just seems so odd to you. It all does.

"Mitchie?" you jump as you hear your name, and blink a couple of times, until you can see Nate standing in front of you, looking worried, "are you okay?"

He looks concerned for you, and you nod. It was just a bit of a shock, and you don't really feel the need to tell Nate about your encounter with Tess.

"I'm fine," you say, and he relaxes a little, "where's Shane?"

And you can see it very clearly, as Nate tenses up again, his eyes creasing. You're amazed. Whatever Tess did, it must have been really horrible. And Nate seemed so relaxed earlier too.

"He's outside in the limo with Caity and Jase. We're just waiting for you. We're getting out of here. Going bowling or something," he tells you, and you're surprised you're invite at all, but you don't say it aloud. You just follow him through the crowd, this time making sure you don't lose sight of your companion, and breathe a small sigh of relief when the two of you make it out into the lobby. You've just reached the main entrance when you lay a hand on Nate's sleeve and stop him in his tracks. You have to ask before you're both back around Shane again.

"What happened with Tess?" you ask, looking straight into Nate's brown eyes, as if they'll give it all away, "what did she do?"

Nate shifts, uncomfortable under your stare, and then shrugs your hand off.

"That's not for me to say," he tells you, and you almost protest before deciding otherwise, after he gives you a look.

"Ask Shane, maybe he'll tell you," Nate says as he opens the limo door for you.

"Not likely," you snort, climbing in, and bracing yourself to see Shane and Caitlyn again.

**Questions:**

**AH what did Tess do? Why's Caitlyn so worried? And what do you think was with Tess threatening Mitchie? :D**

**Review? Tell me what you think? :)**


	5. I Don't Know What To Think

**GAH! I'm so sorry for the delay. I've just been beyond busy these past couple of weeks. :S**

**Thank you for all your reviews :) They really brighten my day. **

**Chapter 4**

"Go Mitchie!" Caitlyn holds her hand up for a high five as you walk back from your turn at bowling, and you very unenthusiastically meet her hand with your own, and give her a confused smile.

"For the worst score after five bowls that I have _ever_ seen," she laughs, as you roll your eyes and take your seat beside her. So far you'd knocked over 2 pins total, while the other four had managed to get at least two strikes a piece. While you and Caitlyn took your turns, the boys headed off to get some hotdogs and sodas for a late night snack. You'd all been at the all night bowling alley for an hour, after you'd gone to see a movie in some theatre where Connect 3 weren't even recognized, so you and Shane didn't have to pretend that you were dating. It was almost a relief, sitting between Jason and Caitlyn, and laughing through the movie. For an hour and a half you were in the downtown cinema back home, and you could make believe Sierra was sitting a few seats down. Even now at the bowling lanes, Shane is distancing himself from you. There hasn't been a single snide comment, or dirty look. It has been almost (dare you say it) pleasant.

But that's just it. It's been pleasant, and upbeat, and cheerful. No one has mentioned the wedding, or Tess, or whatever went down between her and Shane. You can feel it though. That slightly put on happiness, the fake relaxed atmosphere. They are all purposely gliding over the topic and you can tell, but these precious hours of calm mean too much to you for you to bring it up.

"The sides are down, that's not fair," you complain, as Caitlyn laughs. The machines are setting down another ten pins as you wait for the guys to return.

"So how is it that we still managed to strikes?" Nate asks as he lowers himself down on Caitlyn's other side, handing her a hot dog. She accepts it with a grateful smile his way, before shooting you a triumphant look. You throw your eyes up to the ceiling again, and turn away from her, but not before you catch the way Nate and Caitlyn angle themselves in their seats so they are sitting closer that necessary. It makes you want to 'aw' out loud, as Caitlyn leans over to whisper something in Nate's ear, and her hand brushes his upper arm gently and his cheeks color red.

"They are disgusting," you jump a little, and look up to find Shane standing over you, a hotdog and a hamburger in his hands. He's rolling his eyes in the general direction of Nate and Caitlyn, and you slowly nod your head, slightly surprised that he'd even say this to you.

"They're cute though," you say, as he lowers himself down beside you and stretches his hand out, gesturing with the hamburger towards you. You take it from him, quickly, as if you're afraid he'll snatch it back. He doesn't, just takes a bite of his hotdog.

Chewing, and swallowing slowly as Jason goes to take his turn, Shane looks over at you. You are holding the hamburger in your hands, looking between it and him.

"What? Is it not okay," he sighs, "your manual thing said you don't like hotdogs."

If you weren't a loss for words before, this would have shocked you into silence. You had gone through Shane's manual, page by page, trying to remember as much as you possibly could, but not for a second had you ever imagined he would even open yours. Much less be able to remember something as trivial as the fact that you prefer hamburgers to hotdogs.

"Yeah, you're right," you say, "thanks."

"It's fine," he shrugs, "thanks for not pushing the Tess thing."

He turns back to face Jason and watches him bowl, not another word to you, but as you take a bite out of your burger, and contemplate all of this, you realize that that was probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for you, considering the circumstances.

"Anytime," it comes out a little late, and you're not even sure why you said it, but as Shane turns back to you and a small genuine smile graces his features, you decide that it was most definitely necessary.

\_/

Caitlyn's hair has fallen from it's pretty bun, and you are exhausted and full of food that cannot be good for you, but the two of you are laughing hysterically at Jason's bird impression in the back of the limo. Caitlyn has fallen off her seat, which makes you erupt all over again, and she's rolling around on the floor. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Shane shooting Nate a panicked look, but you can't help yourself. Jason just cracks you up.

"Oh God," you pant, still giggling, trying to straighten yourself up, as Caitlyn hoists herself onto the seat beside you, she stifles another laugh, and you try not to look at her because you know you'll just start up all over again.

Caitlyn wipes some tears away from under her eyes, and fixes her hair while you fidget with the end of your dress trying to make it sit right. You're pretty sure it's gone past three in the morning, and you occasionally feel your eyes closing, but you can't find it in you to want to go to bed. This night has been your best in a very long time, and you never want it to end.

"So you coming to Shane's later today, Mitchie?" Caitlyn asks, once you have both calmed down, and everyone is sitting in peaceful silence. You see Shane glaring at her, but she completely ignores him, and just looks straight at you instead, "we're going to be recording some stuff. Messing around with some beats, you'll get to see the whole producing side of it."

You sit for a moment, unsure of what to say. Do you admit that you would _really_ like to be there, or just shrug it off, because you know Shane had no intention of inviting you to his house ever again, despite the kind gesture earlier.

You move your shoulders awkwardly, which somehow comes across as a yes to Caitlyn, who beams at you, and drums her fingers together excitedly.

"I bet we'll get you to sing."

You blanch at this, and begin to shake your head, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Shane's turn up in a nasty grin.

"Maybe you will," you tell her, smirking at Shane and all five of you settle back into a silence, the only sound in the car, the slight hum from the radio Alan is playing in the front.

Eventually, you can feel the limo slowing, and it draws to a stop. The dread wells up in your chest. This night has been enjoyable; your best in months, and you are desperate to cling to every last second of it. You don't want to return to somewhere you hate.

The screen that separates the back seats and the driver's cab lowers down, and Alan gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We're here." You nod to him, and thank him, and for a second as he holds your eyes, you're almost sure you can see sympathy, and understanding there, like he knows, and he's trying to tell you something. You think he mouths something like, it'll be okay, but then the moment is broken by Jason opening the door, and the cold night air rushes in.

A shiver runs through you, and you climb from the car, waving at Jason, before shutting the door. The limo doesn't move as you make your way up the steps, and unlock the door. The fact that they stayed to make sure you got in safely improves your mood (which is spiralling downhill rapidly) a little.

You wave again, and shut the door on them all, breathing in slowing and then exhaling. You lean against the door, before steadying yourself and setting off up the stairs. The house is eerily silent, and bathed in a shadowy black that reminds you somewhat of that darkness that engulfs the streets during winter, when the fog is thick.

You pull your heels off slowly, and begin to tiptoe up the stairs. You do not want to wake them, because you've gone almost 24 hours without an encounter, and you'd like to make it the whole day.

But your plan is smashed into pieces, just like your fragile happiness, when you flick on the light in your room to find your mom, wrapped in a fluffy blue dressing gown, sitting on your bed.

"Connie," you say, nodding to her. You hold so much contempt towards her, you can't bear to call her mom anymore. Mothers don't act this way towards daughters they claim they love. They listen to them, they respect them, and they certainly don't uproot them because some guy who abandoned her years ago turns up again.

"Mitchie, I've asked you to stop calling me that," she says, and you can't even look at her as you dump your bag and heels beside your desk.

"And I've asked you to send me home. But we don't always get what we want," you shoot back, your tone clipped, angry.

She ignores this, instead choosing to clear her throat, as if preparing to make a big speech.

"It's close to five in the morning, where were you Mitchie?" you raise your eyebrows surprised by the time, but to Connie, you just shrug again.

"Out," you tell her. You were never a cheeky teenager, and you and your mom used to get on. You had the odd fight, sure, but that was over silly things, like your church clothes, or whether or not you could handle a job. And those fights were forgiven instantly, forgotten moments later. Somehow, you get the feeling that it'll take you a lot longer to forgive your mom for this, and that's provided she apologises first. And that seems really unlikely.

"Yes, I know that, I'm not stupid, Mitchie," she's repeating your name, saying it every time she speaks, as if this'll somehow remind you of who you are. You want to tell her you've not forgotten, she's the one who has the memory issues.

"I didn't mean that I was out," you begin, "I meant, get out." You point at the door, as Connie's eyes open wider, growing to an unnatural size. She sits dumbfounded for a second, before rising, and walking in the direction your finger is gesturing, and you follow, her shoulders slumped, as if she has given up. You couldn't care less if she has.

"Night Mitch," she says, stopping just outside your room. You reach the door just as she turns back to face you. You hold her gaze for a second, looking into her eyes, which are a reflection of yours. You are growing to hate your eyes. They are evidence that the two of you are truly related.

You set your jaw.

"It's Mitchie to you," you tell her, before slamming the door in her face, before you can see it fall, and turning the key in the lock. You spin, and lean with your back against the wood of the door, and slowly slide towards the ground, bringing your knees to your chest, and your face into your hands, as the tears begin to fall for the first time in a long time, letting out everything you wish you could say aloud.

**Reviews? :)**


	6. Save Me, I've Been Feeling So Alone

**Chapter 6. Enjoy :)**

You are up earlier than you intended to be the next morning. Your eyes are groggy, your vision blurry, as you rise from your bed, and stumble around your bedroom, pulling on your jeans, and throwing on some t-shirt you find at the bottom of your wardrobe. You don't even spare a glance in the mirror, before leaving your room, running your fingers through your hair. You flip open your phone, grimacing at the time, and dial the taxi service. You figure Alan is off because of the late night. You are stepping outside as you hang up. The air is already warm, as it always seems to be in California, and you suddenly regret not wearing shorts, and trying to get a tan as you stretch out and wait for the taxi to arrive. You're not really sure where you're going to go. You don't know where Caitlyn lives, nor do you have her cell number, and you doubt Shane would be up at such a time, let alone appreciate an impromptu visit.

You realise that you maybe should have thought this over, but just as you are about to head back inside you see the taxi pulling up outside the gate. Sighing, you open the gates, and climb into the car.

"Where to?" the driver is an older man, with a friendly smile and a beard that reminds you of Alan.

"The beach," you say, turning to look out the window. When you realise the car hasn't move you look back at the driver. He is staring at you, eyebrows raised.

"Not a local?" he asks and you shrug, shaking your head, "well then, I recommend you learn your beaches," he winks at you, making you smile a little, "Santa Monica pier, that's a good place to start."

You shrug your shoulders again, and nod to him, giving him permission to drive you wherever he wants. You couldn't care less at this point.

You've been trying to block out last night's fight all morning, but as the cab driver pulls away, you can't stop the memory. You can't remember the last time you and Connie got on, but that one was particularly bad. Normally you just snapped at her, and refused to talk. This time, the evidence is rimming your eyes in red hours later, and your chest contracts at just the thought of it. You don't think you and Connie are ever going to be the same.

A while later, you feel the cab slow and come to a stop, and the driver coughs getting your attention.

"Santa Monica," he says, and tells you the cost of the cab ride. You pull out far too much money, and tell him to keep the change. He mutters a very enthusiastic thank you, before you step out of the car, and into the open air.

The pier is quiet, few people milling around at this time in the morning. You wave to the cabbie as he pulls away before you set off down the boardwalk. The sun is still low in the sky, casting a pretty light over the beach. You can't help but feel content, as you buy a beach towel from a stall that's just opening up, along with a pair of shorts, changing into them behind the towel, and heading off down towards the beach. You like the way no one knows you here. You are no longer _his_ daughter, or the girl the world will soon think Shane Grey is in love with, or even Mitchie, the girl who hates her mother.

You are simply a person, another early riser out to enjoy the sun. No one is paying any attention to you. You are anonymous.

"Mitchie?" you turn, and to your surprise find a topless Nate standing behind you, a surprised look on his face. So much for that you groaned inwardly. He is panting, and you realise he must be out for a morning jog.

"Nate," you try to muster some enthusiasm, but the look on Nate's face tells you that you failed.

"I can go…" He gestures past you, as if he's willing to run on, but you take pity on him, and shake your head, and smile slightly.

"Walk with me?" you ask, and he beams, which surprises you again. He seems genuinely happy that you both fall into step together.

"I had a good time last night," you say, after an awkward pause. He nods, smiling again. You notice his smile is more alive than Shane's, and he has a bounce in his step that Shane's is missing. But you also notice that he's a lot shorter than Shane. You're much nearer his height, and you wouldn't have to crane on your tiptoes to wrap your hands around his neck. All the same though, you think you like Shane's height anyways. Nate is however the perfect height for Caitlyn. They would match maybe an inch between them. They'd be perfect together.

"Me too," he agrees, "bar the whole Tess thing, of course, and we never got to hear you sing." He makes a put on pouting face, and you laugh loudly.

"You're apparently going to hear me today anyway," you say, and he nods contemplating this.

"True," he says, "especially if Caity has anything to do with it. She's determined." He dons a little smile at the mention of Caitlyn, and you yourself have to stop yourself from grinning. They are too cute for words, and they're not even together yet.

"So it seems," you say, as the two of you turn down onto the beach. It's a little busier than you anticipated, but it's beautiful anyway, "so, you and Caitlyn?" You nonchalantly bring the conversation to the subject that has most peaked your interest, as you lay your towel on the sand.

"Caitlyn and I," he repeats, lowering himself to the sand, but you don't miss the blush. He's in that deep.

"Oh come off it Nate," you laugh, sitting down beside him on the towel, and lightly push him, before lying back, and closing your eyes to shield them from the sun, "you two are so oblivious to each other."

Nate snorts in protest.

"I am not oblivious to her. At all. She, on the other hand, is never going to notice me."

Your eyes fly open, and you turn over on your side, glaring at Nate, who's sitting up, leaning back on his hands. You scoff at him.

"Don't be stupid," you chastise, "she is head over heels."

He glances down at you, a sceptical look on his face.

"Yeah sure," his voice is layered heavily with sarcasm. You can't help but think he learnt it from Shane.

"Yeah sure," you repeat, in all seriousness, "Make a move, Nate. She really likes you."

You both sit in silence for a while, and you have turned over onto your back again, the heat beating down on your legs and arms, before Nate speaks again.

"You think so?" he sounds hopeful, young, and cautious.

"Yeah, I do," and even though you can't see him, you know he's smiling, his face turned up to the sun too.

**xxxx**

"Okay, so you think I should suggest an acoustic set?" Nate asks, turning the key in the door of Shane's house, hours later.

"Yeah," you nod, stepping inside, sighing happily as the cool air hits you, "like even just getting rid of the beats behind some of your songs you've already released. That could make it easier for the fans to become accustomed to it. Then you could move on to new songs."

Nate nods, accepting your advice, and looking like he is actually going to consider it.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling at you, "that could be cool."

You give him a toothy grin, at which he laughs. You've found it so easy to talk to Nate. He's not asking for deep and meaningful, and somehow, it seems he doesn't hate you as much as you originally thought.

"Nate," you look around to the sound of Shane's voice. He walks into the hall, and you feel Nate stiffen a little beside you. You think, maybe, just maybe, Shane hasn't quite decided to tolerate you like Nate has. He is looking down at some sort of handheld device, maybe a phone, and seems distracted.

"Nate," he repeats, still oblivious to your presence, "you haven't heard for Mitchie have you? Her dad just called. She's disappeared, and he's blaming me. I'm supposed to be 'looking after' her, apparently," he makes quotation marks with his free hand, still typing with the other, "Ugh, the dude hates me enough already. Is she just trying to make my life a living hell?"

You cough politely, lightly, causing Shane to raise his head, and he sees you're there for the first time. You give him a half smile. He seems surprised to see you, then angry, then just relieved.

That patience you felt from him last night is completely gone though.

"Where the hell were you?" he asks, looking down at his phone again, "your dad's worried sick. Psycho so he is. He thinks I've kidnapped you. As if."

Shane scoffs loudly, while slipping his phone into his back pocket (though how he has enough room in though jeans you'll never know). This hurts a lot more that you ever imagined. Okay, so you never thought Shane would _like _you, but he seems so disgusted at the idea of actually wanting to be with you for any given period of time that you can't help the stab of pain. You've never felt so hated before.

"He's not my dad," you blurt out before you can stop yourself. Shane looks confused, and does a double take.

"Yes he is," he insists, and you can almost see him going over it all in his head.

"Biologically maybe, but he's not my dad," you repeat, "and I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that, thanks."

Shane has fallen silent, and you turn back to Nate, who is still standing behind you, and point towards the basement.

"Shall we?" you ask, and he nods, and leads the way. You're about to shut the door behind you, when you turn back to see Shane regarding you with a curious, interesting expression. You ignore it, and smile at him again, before heading down after Nate.

**xxxx**

"You know the point of brainstorming is to actually come up with an idea," you moan, tossing another crumpled piece of paper in the bin, "and you've rejected all of mine and yours." You lay yourself down on the couch, stretching out, and groaning.

"Well _if_ I go ahead with this," Nate countered, from his seat by the sound board, "it has to be perfect."

You roll your eyes again, and stare down at the fresh sheet of notepad.

"You could just announce it on air, in some interview. Caitlyn was saying you guys are on Ellen next week," you suggested, but know it's a failure when Nate's face puckers.

"Ugh, fine, whatever," you give up, "can we please mess with a song now."

"But what about my predicament?" he whined.

"As interested as I am in you and Caitlyn getting together, there is only so many 'absolutely not's I can take," you tell him, swinging your legs down and pulling yourself into a sitting position, "plus Caitlyn will be here soon. We can't talk about it then."

"True," he sighs, he too throwing a last sheet of paper into the bin, "well get over here then. We haven't got all day."

You rise, and make your way over to where he's sitting.

"So, I have this song I wrote a while back," he says, rooting through a door and producing a C.D. and sticking it into the drive, "it's nothing of importance, nothing that can be put on an album anyway. I thought it would be perfect to mess around with."

You nod, and smile at him, but frown as the lyrics begin to play.

"_I will never let you fall  
I'll stand up with you forever  
I'll be there for you through it all  
Even if saving you sends me to heaven__."_

"Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Who exactly did you write this song for?" you ask, and he looks up at you, pausing with his fingers lingering over the buttons, and you see comprehension dawn on his face.

**xxxx**

You arrive early for sound check later that night. Caitlyn hadn't made it to Shane's earlier, because of some sort of hair dying emergency (which sounded vaguely frightening to you), which had caused you to suggest that Nate spend the day practicing and sing the song at the concert that night, while you dodged your house at a local mall.

"_It's now or never,"_ you'd told him. He had just looked queasy.

This was some charity gig that the band had to go to. They'd organised it months before they found out about Brown's wedding, and the show had to go on, despite the late night.

You hold your V.I.P card up to the bouncer and he nods you backstage. It's manic back there, and you duck to avoid a collision with a speaker.

"Mitchie?" you seek out the voice that shouts your name and you find Caitlyn, her hair all piled up under a beanie, as she waits outside a door that reads 'Band'.

"Hey," you say, and can't help but smirk at her beanie, "I like the hat."

She laughs, but doesn't answer you, and just opens the door to reveal a nervous looking Nate, Shane styling his hair, and Jason and Willow sitting on the couch, whispering to each other. The presence of someone who doesn't know puts you on high alert, and you stretch on a happy smile.

"Hey," you say, moving towards Shane, who looks away from the mirror startled. You throw a glance at Willow, and Shane for his part immediately catches on.

"Hey babe," he smiles up at you.

"No pet names," you hiss at him _again_, still smiling, as you pull over a chair, and settle yourself beside him, although facing away from the mirror he is still preening himself in.

"Sure thing, honey," he leers at you, at an angle that Willow can't see, but he has this sparkle in his eye, that tells you he's only messing with you. Shaking your head at him, you turn to Nate.

"You ready for tonight, Nate?" you ask, and he glares at you, as if you've given it all away. You enjoy watching him squirm as Caitlyn looks between you, confused.

And you think it's beyond hilarious when Caitlyn leans over to him, and his already red face turns a lovely shade of purple.

"Are you okay Nate?" she asks, still peering closely at him. He waves her away, brushing his hair from his face.

"Fine, fine," he grumbles, before standing and marching across the room.

"See you later Nate," you call cheerfully as Caitlyn follows behind him, looking as painfully unaware of tonight's plans as ever.

"Yeah, whatever," he mutters, letting Caitlyn pass before him, and slamming the door loudly behind her.

"What was that about?" Shane asks, and you turn back to him, beaming at yourself.

"Nothing, nothing at all," you snicker secretly to yourself, and Shane just looks at you oddly, in a way that says, 'tell me now'.

"Oh, you'll find out at sound check anyways," you roll your eyes at him.

You all sit in silence then, the only sound, the odd giggle from Willow and Jason, who are still whispering quietly on the couch.

"You know you something," you say to Shane after a while, and he glances up at you, from his phone, which he is still surgically attached to, "they're just as cute- and disgusting-as Nate and Caitlyn." Shane regards you for a second, before nodding, and agreeing.

"You think that's bad?" he says, lowering his phone onto his dresser, and turning to face you fully, "you should've seen them when they first started going out. They were revolting. That's why I've planned to never fall in love. It sickens people."

"Shush," you tell him wide eyed, afraid Willow has heard him, but when you look back at her you realise they're far too wrapped up in each other to notice anything either of you are saying.

"Never mind," you say, and he laughs a little, until something you'd been thinking, but hadn't meant to say aloud, slips out, "but, you have haven't you, been in love?"

You can't believe you've said it, and slap a hand over your mouth the minute the words are out, but what's said is said, and Shane, for his part, doesn't seem all that angry.

"With Tess?" he says her name with a lot more ease than you imagined, "I guess I thought I was. But I wasn't. You can be sure of that." You nod to him, and he continues to look at you with this look on his face. You don't actually know what exactly it is, but it intrigues you.

"What's the look for?" you ask, glancing away from him and then back again. You notice in this light, his eyes have a dark ring of green around the iris, which sort of entrances you.

He's extremely good looking, you have to give him that much. He might be a pig, and horrible and you might hate him a little, but there were certainly no guys quite like him in your old school.

"Have you ever been in love?" his question startles you, and causes you to snap from a reverie you have drifted into. You slowly shake your head.

"No," you tell him, looking him in those startling eyes, "in fact, you're my first boyfriend." You give a dry laugh as you watch his eyebrows shoot up.

"Really?" he asks, eyebrows still raised.

"Really," you repeat, and begin to play with a thread on your t-shirt, "I wasn't exactly what you'd call popular. I didn't have many guy friends."

He contemplated this for a second, and scoots his chair, so now it's turned to face you.

"Tell me about it," he says, and you look up at him in surprise, "I figure, you're going to be around for a while. Why not get to know you?"

You smile at him, take and deep breath and think where to start.

"Well, my best friend's name is Sierra, she's seventeen –I'm seventeen in August. We got to know each other 8th grade homeroom..."

**xxxx**

Shane nods his head as you tell him about the music programme at your old school, an hour later.

"And you were into singing right?" he asks, and you blush deeply.

"No, I was more of a piano, guitar girl," you correct him, "I write songs and that, but only in private. Sierra is the only person who's ever heard me sing. And maybe Connie, when I was in the shower. I mainly took part in the musicals, you know in the orchestra."

Shane nods again, and if he noticed you using your mom's first name he doesn't mention it. You find that Shane's actually been interested. Surprisingly, for someone who's whole world apparently revolves around himself, he seems pretty comfortable listening to you talk about yourself for the good part of an hour.

He's about to ask you something, and his mouth is open when Nate bursts into the otherwise empty room. Jason and Willow disappeared over a half hour ago.

"I'm not doing it," he shouts, and you jump, and turn to look at him.

"You're not doing what?" Shane says from behind you, and you stand, and ignore him.

"Nate Black," you step closer to him, your voice at a low level that you've never even heard from yourself before, "I did not sit with you for hours today so you could back out. You are not a quitter. And you'd better get out there on that stage and sing the damn song, or so help me God, I will tell her right now."

"Tell who what?" Shane's voice interjects, and this time you look back at him, and hold up one finger to him, pleading for him to give you just one second. Surprisingly he nods to you, and you turn back to Nate.

"Nate," you close the gap between you, so you are looking right up at him, and the anger webs away. He's nervous and scared, and you can understand why. He really likes Caitlyn, but you're not about to let him ruin his chances, "I promise this won't go wrong, I've told you that. I'll even play guitar for you. I don't do that for just anything."

You listen as he takes a shuddering breath.

"Promise?" he whispers, and you watch him relax under your gaze. He takes a shaky breath and smiles, "well then it's show time."

"Show time," you repeat and smile at him.

"Show time?" Shane asks coming to stand beside you, "you know we're just doing sound check right? For like Caitlyn, Willow and Mitchie... And the lighting guy. The concert isn't until nine."

Nate glances at you, and you just nod in the direction of the stage and he heads out the door.

Holding out your hand, you motion for Shane to take it in his, and he obliges. This time, lightly, and delicately so that he's merely just stringing himself to you. It's really funny actually, because you can imagine what you look like to other people, and it's so far from the truth. Image is in fact everything, after all.

He leads you out after Nate, and you follow his stride, so the two of you are walking side by side. "Want to tell me what that was about?" he whispers, leaning down to talk to you. You move past a man shouting about hairbrushes into a Bluetooth, and two women pouring over a laptop. It's packed back here, and you find yourself barely able to breathe.

"Remember when we agreed that Caitlyn and Nate _need _to get it on?" you say to him, as you both reach the edge of stage right, "well maybe our wish is about to come true." He does a double take, and his face is questioning, and surprised. You shoot him and wink, and he smiles, shaking his head.

"I underestimated you, Torres," he says, and you grin back at him, over your shoulder as you head onto the stage, taking a guitar someone hands you out of nowhere.

"That's everyone's first mistake, Gray. There's way more to me than just a pretty face," you call, and he breaks out into the first real face consuming smirk you've ever seen him give. You're not sure, but you think you even hear him laugh as you reach Nate, who's standing nervously beside the microphone situated centre stage. He's cracking his knuckles, and biting his lip, and if you could you'd laugh at him. He's worrying about nothing.

"You ready, kid?" you sling the guitar strap over your shoulder, and as he nods, not even looking up, you turn back towards another microphone. The stage lights flash on, and you are temporarily blinded, before they dim, and Nate holds a thumb up. You focus on the audience, as he straightens up. The venue is a lot smaller than Connect 3 are used to playing, but it's definitely not tiny by any comparisons. There are a couple of people milling around in front of the stage, but the most important person, Caitlyn, is sitting about twenty rows from the front, with Willow and Jason. You can't see her face properly, but can imagine she's frowning, confused. She's still wearing the ridiculous beanie too, but you can tell she's watching the stage intently. Mainly because she always watches Nate.

"Hey," he says, and is greeted by his own echo reverberating off the walls, "so, Mitchie convinced me I needed to do this. She said it was about time." He looks back at you, but doesn't really see you, facing the microphone again and then clears his throat, "so, this is for Caity. They've all been for you."

You're not entirely positive, but you're pretty sure a "me?" rings through the arena, and from stage right you can practically hear Shane rolling his eyes.

Nate, for his part, turns back to you, and gives you a half smile. You nod back, position your fingers correctly on the fret board, and begin to play. It comes as easy as it always has, like breathing.

"_When I see your smile, Tears run down my face, I can't replace, And now that I'm strong I have figured out, How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul, And I know I'll find deep inside me I can be the one"_

Nate's voice is even more amazing here than in the recording studio, and you can hear every emotion dripping from each note. _  
"I will never let you fall, I'll stand up with you forever, I'll be there for you through it all, Even if saving you sends me to heaven"_

You strum each chord out, clear and precise along with Nate's voice, and you feel the whole world still. Even though you're not singing, you love this buzz, the adrenaline that comes from performing. You vow right then and there, as Nate declares his love for Caitlyn, that you'll never give this up. Even if you never sing, you can't imagine never playing for anyone again. _  
"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. Seasons are changing, And waves are crashing, And stars are falling all for us. Days grow longer and nights grow shorter I can show you I'll be the one. I will never let you fall  
I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all, Even if saving you sends me to heaven"  
_Nate has found his feet, and he's singing loudly now, and through the lights, you can see that Caitlyn has risen from her seat, and is now making her way down towards the stage, her eyes locked on Nate. She looks happy, and scared, and surprised… but mostly so _so _happy.

"_Cuz you're my, you're my, my, my true love, my whole heart, Please don't throw that away, Cuz I'm here for you, Please don't walk away and please tell me you'll stay."  
"Use me as you will, Pull my strings just for a thrill, And I know I'll be okay, Though my skies are turning gray."_

The audience likes that, and they laugh with Nate as he sings, and you can feel him smiling now. He belongs on stage, just like Shane, just like you. _  
"I will never let you fall, I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all, Even if saving you sends me to heaven."_

There's this huge beat of silence, before everyone who's stopped to watch Nate's performance breaks out into thunderous applause, and loud awes. Shane is suddenly by Nate's side, patting him on the back, and then he turns back to you and nods, with a little smile, and you're grinning.

Nate, on the other hand, is still facing out into the audience, peering down towards the seats below.

"Nate?" the whole venue falls silent and turns to face Caitlyn who's suddenly standing about 10 feet from you. Her mascara has run, and her hat is gone, so her hair is hanging in purple –_purple_- curls around her face. She looks a mess, and beyond beautiful at the same time.

"Caity?" Nate says into the silence, and her face turns stony. In a blink of an eye, she runs at him, and begins to pound on his chest.

"Nate _punch _Black _pound _how _punch _dare _pound _you _punch _wait _pound _this _punch _long _pound _to _punch _tell _pound _me," she screams at him, half laughing, half truly angry, and after a final half hearted slap on his shoulder, she falls on to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and he hesitantly wraps his arms around her waist, as she throws her own around his torso. They look sweet, and cute, and you think that maybe Caitlyn could be crying (with happiness hopefully), because she seems to be shaking in Nate's arms.

"She's a wild one, our Caity," Jason is beside you now, along with Willow, and the two of them are watching Nate and Caitlyn with amused expressions, their hands intertwined between them.

"Tell me about it," Willow agrees, soft spoken as ever, "they'll be good for each other, I think. Cait and Nate, sure their names rhyme."

You laugh a little at this, but your eyes don't move from the other couple on the stage. One of Nate's hands have moved to Caitlyn's hair, and he's awkwardly patting her head. They look mismatched, almost the same height, one with dark brown hair, another with blazing purple, but somehow they seem to fit.

Caitlyn pulls back, away from Nate's neck, but her arms remain in the same position. They look at each other for a full thirty seconds before someone in front of the stage yells out.

"Just kiss her already." Everybody laughs, and before you know it, Nate's hand has moved to Caitlyn's cheek, and he's kissing her fiercely. Everyone, including you, bursts into cheers and applause, and someone calls out , "took you long enough".

"Finally," Shane is beside you, his head cocked, staring at his two best friends. He glances down at you, his expression softer than you have ever seen it, and he says quietly, "thanks."

You shrug, and send him a half smile, "no problem."

"I mean it," he whispers now, so your sure only you can hear, "you've just made two of my best friends really happy. You don't even know them that well."

You raise your shoulders lightly again, still staring at Nate and Caitlyn. They've pulled apart, and the crowd has dispersed, but the newly formed couple seem to be whispering together.

"They're good people. And Caitlyn made me feel welcome," you tell him, "and then so did Nate. Although now I think of it, that may have had something to do with Caitlyn herself."

You chance a glance at Shane, and you can see that he's trying not to laugh. You narrow your eyes, and hit him across the chest.

"It's more than some people did," you snap playfully, and he becomes solemn.

"Look, Mitchie," he says, "it wasn't anything personal, it's just-"

His eyes are wide, and you notice their hazel colour even more under the stage lights. His tanned skin, and dark hair compliments his appearance, and you have to admit again that you can understand what those screaming girls are so excited about.

You hold up at hand, and shoot him an easy grin, "it's already forgotten." And it is. Shane had a _right _to hate you. You would've hated you too, barging in and ruining your life like that.

"Fine," he says, after a second, "but I owe you one of those crappy ice creams you like so much."

You glance up at him again, surprised he remembered this fact as well. He is grinning at you, and taps his temple.

"Smarter than I look," he tells you, and you laugh, nodding.

"A lot more than a pretty face," you agree, repeating what you said about yourself earlier, beginning to exit the stage, him following, before you're aware that he has stopped, and you turn back to face him.

"You think I have a pretty face," he snickers, and you just roll your eyes, and continue on your way.

"Just don't let it get to your head, pop star," you tell him over your shoulder. He's standing in the same spot, and he hasn't moved an inch. He is just staring at you, scrutinising you, like he's trying to wrap his mind around something he can't really understand. You stare back for a moment, and you try to read his expression, but it's difficult. You can't decide whether or not he likes what he's looking at.

After a moment, he jumps out of his trance, as a girly high pitched voice screams, "hurry up, we do actually have concert to put on tonight! Unless you want me to lose my job!"

"Stage manager," he says, reaching you and gently pushing you forward with a hand on your lower back, "and believe me you do not want to cross Kristin before a show. Last time I did, I end up singing the first set wearing clothes soaked with a cold caramel macchiato with cream." You can't help but let a laugh escape even when Shane sends you a menacing look.

"You were good out there, you know," his comment startles you, as you both make your way back to the dressing room, "you're really good on the guitar. It's been a long time since I've seen someone love to play that much."

You can't help but blush, and he's still watching you intently, but you ignore him, and just brush it off.

"Well it's been the only thing I could love for a really long time," you admit, quietly, setting the guitar down on the sofa, "so, I guess I couldn't help but love it a lot."

**xxxx**

"Thanks guys," you hear someone call out into the audience, as Connect 3 finish their second encore of the night. They announced some time during the encore that ticket and merchandise sales, as well as private donations, had grossed about a million for the charity, which helped children with cancer. Along with a million donated from the band, and another from the record label, $3 million was going to help a lot of kids who needed it.

You're contemplating this, when the door of the dressing room bursts open, and Shane marches in, looking hot and worked up and happy, chugging back a bottle of water . Nate follows behind, the same look on his face, only he's carrying a guitar, and then Jason who's got a pile of posters under his arm. Caitlyn disappeared before the performance started, presumably to watch from the audience with Willow.

"That was awesome," Nate tells you, crossing the room to bend over and throw his arms around you. The hug says it all, and you gently hug him back.

"Best show ever," Shane agrees, "the crowd was wild." He's behind a screen, and appears to be changing from his outfit.

"I think all that screaming was really from Caitlyn," Jason teases, and Nate, who's now picked up his own bottle of water, throws some at Jason. Shane emerges from behind the screen, laughing, in new jeans and a t-shirt, his hair glued to his forehead with sweat.

"Ah come on now Nate, 3 million dollars for the kids down at the hospital, who're all going to get their last wishes, and you've got yourself a girlfriend," Shane reasons, "not a bad night to say the least."

Nate rolls his eyes, and lowers himself down beside you.

"So how was the two hours back stage by yourself?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"Thrilling," you say sarcastically, "but the night is young, and Shane said he owes me a McFlurry."

"Oh really?" Nate's eyebrows remain high on his forehead, "imagine what Eddie will say when the paps snap photos of Shane taking his girlfriend on their first public date, to a _fast food _place. You are so not getting to go on Ellen if you do."

Shane pulls face, and Nate, very childishly, sticks out his tongue.

"Ellen?" all the boys turn to you, "what the big deal?"

"Everyone loves going on Ellen," Jason informs you, "Shane is not going to risk that for anything." You're still looking at them both, you pull on your sweater, and stand up, brushing yourself off. Shane too, seems to have caught on to what you are going and has pulled on his jumper, and thrown up the hood. He picks a set of keys up off the vanity table, and heads to the door, pushing out into the hall, and disappears among the bustling bodies.

Following him, you pause as you close the door to confront the confused band members.

"Don't you people have drive throughs in Los Angeles?"

**xxxx**

"Your friends aren't the brightest," you tell Shane, as he drives you along in his SUV, down some street you don't recognise, lit by shiny neon lights. His car is expensive, the seats made of leather, with back heating, and four wheel drive.

"Caitlyn has a straight 4.0 GPA, and she's taking all AP classes. She's sixteen and skipped two grades in school. In September, she's headed to Princeton. Caitlyn is one of _the_ brightest."

You let out a low whistle. You've never met anyone as smart as Sierra, but Caitlyn must be at least as, if not more, intelligent than your best friend. That's impressive to you. What's more impressive is that Shane has managed to become friends with someone with such an obviously high IQ. You're no Sierra, but you know the two of you have remained close for so long because you can have equally simulating conversations.

As if he knows what you're thinking Shane begins to speak.

"I am also Mr. Four Point Oh, skipped one grade, and took all AP classes when I was touring. Graduated when I was seventeen, as in last year, and when this music thing is over, which it will be eventually, I want to be a lawyer, then a judge," he tells you, and you remain silent, watching him, listening to him. He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but you can see that he has a smug smile on his lips. Maybe not just because he one upped you, but because he's proud of himself.

"We were eleven," he continues, "the summer before the one when I met Nate and Jase, and we were at a camp our school set us up with. Camp for kids with high IQs. Summer school for people who wanted to be there basically. And Caitlyn and I were the only two kids there that were interested in music. We've been best friends ever since."

He has this smile on his face, the one people get when they're remembering something really good.

"You know," you begin, smiling at his smile, because, you'll admit, he looks cute with that half grin, "I get straight As and skipped a grade in middle school. I'll graduate next June, aged seventeen, just like you. I want to be a doctor. Help kids with cancer like the ones that you were raising money for. If the music thing doesn't work out, of course."

He looks at you from the corner of his eye as you say this, apprehensively, like he's not sure he should believe you.

"Why wasn't this in your manual?" he asks, "and more to the point, why weren't you at camp, with the rest of us nerds?"

"Did you and Tess really discuss your grade point averages?" you ask, and aren't surprised when he shakes his head, "didn't think so. And Connie, well, she was raising me by herself. Single mom's don't have a spare three thousand bucks lying around, to send their kids to summer camp. I made do with buying my school books early, and learning the material while Sierra spent the time in China, Japan, all over Asia really. Her Dad's a CEO from Hong Kong, who does most of his work by web calls from our small town. And when we got older, she still went to Asia, just on exchange programs. So I spent my time with her exchange students teaching them English, and learning sketchy Mandarin."

He stays silent after this, like he's not sure what to say to someone who hasn't been rich all their life.

"I'm not ashamed of the fact that we didn't have money, Shane," he looks startled that you've addressed him, and so bluntly dictated what he was thinking, "I'm angry that the guy who was supposed my dad was sitting in L.A. in some big ass mansion, while my mom was working double shifts at the supermarket so she could send me on my field trips. He had all this money, all this crap he didn't even need, he didn't even share, and we were struggling."

Shane nods his head, and you lean back on the headrest of the passenger seat, closing your eyes, signalling the end of the conversation. You like _this _Shane, and you've had all this pent up inside of you for so long that you actually want to tell him, but there are some things you just don't want to discuss.

You're not sure how much longer you are driving before Shane slows the car, and winds down the window, ordering a two hamburgers, fries, sodas and a McFlurry. Opening your eyes, you see Shane throw the bag the woman hands him onto the back seat.

Reaching behind you, you search through the back and pull out the ice cream and the plastic spoon, and dig in, shovelling a spoonful into your mouth.

"Back home, in Wyoming, it took an hour's drive to get one of these," you tell him, moaning slightly as you take another lick. He raises an eyebrow at you, laughing at your expression and sounds, "I got McFlurries on birthdays and Christmas Eve only, unless Sierra's parents brought us to the city. This, a McFlurry for absolutely no reason of importance, is like the best thing ever."

"I've lived in cities my whole life. Can't imagine what it's like to live somewhere so small you don't even have a fast food joint."

You pause from your binging to glance up at him again, "maybe someday I'll show you?" It comes out as a question, but you both know you're not really saying what you seem to be. You're asking if there's a chance the two of you could be friends, that after everything you have to do, pretend to cheat on him, pretend to break his heart, and then pretend to leave him for the other guy, that maybe he might secretly come visit you, when you eventually get yourself back home.

"Yeah," he agrees, the corner of his lip pulling up, causing his cheek to dimple, "maybe."

You drive in silence then, you eating, his eyes on the road. Then something occurs to you. You haven't been back to the house since that morning, and you don't really fancy seeing either of them tonight.

"Hey Shane?" you say, sweetly, drawing out the verbs in his name, causing him to look at you suspiciously as best he can while on the road, "can I ask you a favour?"

**So, the main point of this chapter (like all 7,000 words of it... longest chapter yet) was to establish a friendship between Mitchie and Nate, and also a tolerance between Mitchie and Shane. They've both accepted they're stuck with each other, and they've decided to put up with one another. **

**The real drama, Tess, and other unforseen obstacles will occur in the next chapter. **

**Review?**


	7. On A Balcony In Summer Air

**Hey guys :) So here we are with chapter 7. I'd like to thank you all for the lovely reviews of the previous chapter. I'm really enjoying writing this story, and I had this chapter almost completed, but then, someone reviewed yesterday, and got me off my butt to finish it. **

**Dontcallmesweetie**** left me such a long review, and it was so lovely. :) I can't give you spoilers, as to whether or not some of your guesses are true, but I am truly glad you're enjoying my story. And I can promise that you will see Brown and Dee again. They're just off on honeymoon right now. You did said some of the nicest things, though, so thank you so so much for that. As for Mitchie's background and who her dad really is, well you'll just have to wait and see. ;) **

**So, I know I promised lots of drama, and Tess, and stuff from this chapter, but for character development purposes, that's all been kept until the next chapter. This is really just establishing Mitchie and Shane's friendship, and getting the plotline going, and introducing some major characters. **

**I really hope you enjoy it.**

"Bathroom's through that door, and I've a load of spare t-shirts and sweats in the closet, if you need pyjamas," Shane says, pointing at another door. He seemed surprised when you asked could you stay over, but he didn't ask you any further questions, just nodded and said it was fine. You'd both sat in his car when you got home, eating your food in comfortable silence. You've learned Shane is the ideal companion. He knows when he needs to speak, when he should just shut up, and he understands somehow, not to push things, or ask too many questions.

"Fridge is stocked, feel free to go look for the T.V. and I have a cat, just in case you're allergic or something," Shane moves towards the door again, ready to leave you alone again.

"Shane?" you say stopping him in his tracks. Here, in this room, in his house, he's a lot more relaxed than you've ever seen him before. He looks young again, not really eighteen anymore. Somewhere, you can see the smiling boy in the photographs with his parents, or the guy who's performing at his very first head lining concert. He looks like a real person.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks... You didn't have to..." he watches you with the intense feeling of being stripped bare complete, like he can read your mind, and it freaks you out, "just thanks."

"I wouldn't make you go back there Mitchie," he says, leaning back on the door frame, "not if you didn't want to. " You smile weakly at him, lowering yourself down onto the bed. You stare at ground for a couple of minutes, but Shane doesn't move or say a word. He knows you're not done, and for some reason, he's willing to wait it out.

"But I can't stay here forever. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to go back. I really don't want to though," somewhere between the beginning and the end of you speaking to your lap, tears start to well up in your eyes, and you're not really too sure why, but this embarrasses you to no end. You furiously wipe tears as they fall down your cheeks, and Shane comes to sit next to you, so he's eye level with you, and nervously throws an arm around your shoulder, hugging you close to him. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, causing, for some unknown reason, millions of goose bumps rise up on your skin.

"Hey, look at it this way," he whispers, as you lower your head down onto his shoulder, "you spend as much time as you want here, and with Caitlyn and Nate, and Jase and Willow too. You can just, like, sleep in that house, and then when you're eighteen, you can move out."

You sniff loudly, and somewhere in your mind you know how embarrassing this is going to be to look back on, but right now, someone telling you it's going to be okay is all you want to hear.

"I think you're forgetting Shane," your voice is scratchy and low, but you know he hears you in this silent house, "in less than three months, I'm going to break your heart, and we'll never speak again."

He doesn't say anything. You're just tired of this now. It's only been a week and a half, and you have another ten and a half to go, but you really just feel like giving up. You want to curl up and cry, or you want to run away, leave for good, and never come back. You want to go home to Wyoming, when the only action you saw was on the TV.

"Talk about a doomed relationship, right?" he chuckles dryly, and you shift under his arm. You like this, sitting here with him, and just talking.

"You could say that again," you whisper, and the tears keep falling, slowly, one by one, and you can't stop them, "I wish we didn't have to do this," you point half heartedly between the two of you, "we could've been good friends. And Caitlyn, Nate and I too."

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, "yeah, we could have been great friends." You don't know if he says this because he feels sorry for you, or because he actually believes it, but it doesn't matter, because it manages to make you stop crying.

"I'm sorry I came and butted into your life," you tell him, and he just nods.

"Wasn't your fault. Sorry I blamed you," he tells you, kind of making you want to cry all over again.

"It's okay," you pull yourself up, and his arm falls from around you. You wipe your face off, sure that your mascara has run, and that you look a state.

"You had nothing to do with it," he repeats, "please stop crying, Mitchie."

You sniffle again, wiping at your cheeks and nod your head.

"Promise?" you ask, your voice so low you'd be surprised if he heard you at all, "about me hardly ever being at the house?"

"I swear," he holds up the sign for Scout Honour, making you laughing, but it turns sardonic.

"Everyone let's me down eventually," you confess, "but maybe I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

There's a silence, in which Shane just hugs you closer to his side.

"You rest up tonight Mitchie," he orders after a moment, "and tomorrow, I'll take you out on our first real date or something." He winks at you, causing, as he's intended, you to laugh again. He sends you a small smile, before turning and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

You without moving for a moment, before heading into the walk in closest, and searching through a drawer until you find an overly large t-shirt, and a pair of light sweats.

Changing into them, you wash your face clean of makeup and then crawl into the large queen sized bed, burying yourself under the duvet. Switching off the lights by clapping (Shane is so predictable), you close your eyes, and see Shane's face, winking at you, and strangely, it makes your heart flutter a little, just as you drift off to sleep.

**Xxxx**

"No way, it sucked," you laugh, as Shane comments on the supposed greatness of the movie you've just seen.

"Ah, come on," he argues, dumping his empty soda in the trash can, "it was a classic action."

You roll your eyes, drinking up the last of your Cola, and tossing it in the bin after Shane's. You may not have enjoyed the movie, but you have to admit, you did enjoy being out with Shane. He's funny, and he's sweet, and for a while he's made you forget everything.

"I'd take a romantic comedy, any day," you tell him, "or better yet, Lilo and Stitch." He blushes at that, stopping just beside the doors out onto the street, and holds your gaze.

"You love it too," he whispers, lowering his head so it is mere inches from yours, "don't pretend otherwise."

"Wouldn't dare to," you breathe out, before pushing open the door, and stepping into the street.

That, you realise, was a mistake.

"Shane, Shane!"

"Who's the girl Shane?"

"Smile for the cameras Shane!"

"Are you Shane Gray's girlfriend?"

Photographers are suddenly in your face, screaming things you can barely make out, and blinding you with flashes. You freeze, and you're sure you have the look of a rabbit caught in headlights, but you don't seem to be able to move an inch. One man, with the largest camera you have ever seen moves far too close to you for comfort, and leers in your face.

"What's your name, gorgeous?"

You fear he's going to move even closer to you, but then Shane is by your side, and has your hand in his, gripping you tightly.

"Get away from her," he orders, his voice low and commanding, and the guy backs away, but is quickly replaced by a large woman with a pad and pen.

"Darling, Georgina Farlow from HitzTV. Tell me, are you two dating?" she speaks in a nasally voice, and someone thrusts a microphone in front of your face.

"Come on, Mitchie," Shane pulls you forwards quickly, through the crowd of paparazzi, and towards the parking lot. His fingers stretch to entwine with yours, and you feel your face heat up with a blush.

"Shane," you whisper, your breathing heaving, as he speeds up, and breaks into a sprint. You reach the car quickly, and he locks the doors as soon as you are safely inside.

It's only when your own gasps settle, and you've spent a minute leaning on the back headrest of the seat before another flash goes off, capturing you through the wind shield. Shane quickly starts the engine, but as you glance in the rear view mirror, you can clearly see that the rest of the paparazzi has crowded around the bottom of the car, making it impossible for him to reverse.

"Shane," you repeat his name, a little panicked now. You don't like this, the claustrophobic feeling of not being able to get away from the cameras, the idea that you may be stuck in the car.

"One second, Mitch," he says softly, catching you off guard with the nickname Sierra used to use. You watch him closely, and he grips the steering wheel tightly, causing his muscles to tense under his t-shirt. He slowly lowers his foot down onto the accelerator, and the car engine revs loudly, three times. This, much to your surprise, actually causes all the photographers to back away.

"One time," he tells you, looking over his shoulder, reversing quickly, "I nearly knocked over some woman who was hounding me for an interview. They've been scarpering when I turn the car on ever since."

You nod, smiling slightly, as he turns onto the main road, away from the crowd, and starts to push the speed limit.

You drive in comfortable silence for another little while, before Shane pulls into the drive through of a fast food joint, and orders something to eat, tossing you your hamburger as he pulls into a parking space in the lot beside the restaurant.

"So, I was thinking," he says, swallowing a French fry, "I'd drop you over to Caitlyn's later. I called her this morning, and she's all for you staying over. She has clothes there, so you can change and after that episode back there," he motions wildly over his shoulder, "I don't think it would be best for anyone to see me bringing you home to stay. Eddie would kill us."

Smiling at him, you dig into your cheese burger, silently deciding Shane is your saving grace. Just yesterday you thought he hated you, and now here he was going out of his way to make sure you don't have to go back to that house.

You both eat in silence, before Shane turns the radio on, and suddenly the car is filled with a Connect 3 song. It's loud, and it's fast, and it's nowhere near as gorgeous as the song they were recording the first day you met Caitlyn, or the one Nate sang the night before. More than that, it's angry. You're not sure who it's aimed at, but you can guess.

"You never did get to sing," Shane has ignored his song on the radio, and is staring at you intently, "I'm kind of curious now."

Swallowing, you lick your lips, you're almost sure he's going to ask you to sing right now.

"I was wondering if you'd sing for me, some time, when you're ready," he asks politely. And he waits patiently when you don't answer. You've only ever sung for Sierra, and you barely know Shane at all.

Yet, he barely knows you, and he's done some of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for you.

"Sure," you find yourself agreeing, "just you though." Shane seems to contemplate this, staring out the windshield, chewing quietly.

"Just me," he agrees, "deal."

**xxx**

You find it difficult to remember why you agreed to sing for Shane, as you sit his living room later that day, with one of his many guitars perched on your lap. It gorgeous, the guitar he's lent you, and you can't help but run your hands over its shiny wooden body , and play the strings gently. Carved onto its neck is Caitlyn's name, in long cursive writing.

"She gave it to me," he tells you, setting two glasses down on the coffee table in front of you, "for my eighteenth birthday. I had it inscribed with her name the next day."

"It's beautiful," you tell him, "I've never seen anything like it before."

"You should see the rest of my collection. I've named them all after the people in my life that mean the most to me," he replies, lowering himself down onto the sofa opposite you. Tracing the name again, you smile lightly.

"So you have to have about twenty named Shane, right?" you laugh at his wounded expression, but you can see that he's not too hurt.

"No," he says, "just six." You roll your eyes at him, and he sticks his tongue out.

"No, seriously," he says, "I don't have any."

You roll your eyes, because you knew that already, you were only teasing. Plucking out a scale, you smile at the notes that echo around the room.

"Do you have one called Tess?"

The question is quiet, and mixes in with the guitar. Shane is silent for a moment, and again you're not sure he heard you. But then:

"Yes. I did," he tells you, and you feel your heart sink, "but then I threw it out the window. And Jason drove over it with his car."

You stop playing, and bite your lip, trying to bite back the laughter. You've decided, for whatever reason, to hate Tess as much as Shane does, so you find this particularly hilarious.

"You can laugh, Mitchie, it's funny."

You snort as he gives you permission, looking at him the whole time. His face, tanned with a hard jaw, is set, not showing a hint of sadness, or bitterness. He just looks like Shane.

You notice then, as you observe him, that he looks good in purple, which is the color of the t-shirt he is wearing, and his jeans, blue washed, suit him too. He looks so good, in fact, that it sets your heart racing, and you have to look away, cursing your damn hormones. Sure, this is the nicest a boy has ever been to you, but soon he's going to have to dump you eventually, so you'd better keep your feelings in check.

Choosing to distract yourself, and stop whatever you feel Shane is about to say, you begin to play the song on the guitar, and taking a deep, steadying breath, began to sing for someone other than Sierra for the very first time.

"_I'm losing myself trying to compete, With everyone else instead of just being me. Don't know where to turn. I've been stuck in this routine. I need to change my ways, Instead of always being weak," _you're singing softly, watching your fingers on the guitar, afraid to even glance at Shane, for fear your voice will choke. But you can feel his eyes on you as your voice, and your music fills the room. _  
"I don't wanna be afraid. I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today. And know that I'm okay, Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways, So you see, I just wanna believe in me. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la."  
"The mirror can lie, Doesn't show you what's inside. And it, it can tell you you're full of life. It's amazing what you can hide, just by putting on a smile," _this serves to take you back to the summer. The summer before this one, when you wrote this song, when everything went bad, and all you wanted was someone to hear you out. _  
"I don't wanna be afraid, I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today. And know that I'm okay  
Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways. So you see, I just wanna believe in me."  
"I'm quickly finding out, I'm not about to break down, not today. I guess I always knew, That I had all the strength to make it through," _you look up from the guitar, and the look on Shane's face almost stops you in your tracks. He is staring at you so intensely, like he is reading all your inner most thoughts, like he tell exactly why you wrote this song, and like he's seen all your dirty little secrets._  
"And I'm not gonna be afraid," _you belt out, blowing his look off his face, and replacing it with pure awe._  
"I'm gonna wake up feeling beautiful today. And know that I'm okay, Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways. So you see, now, now I believe in me. Now I believe in me," _you whisper the last note, and strum out the last chord on the guitar gently.

Sitting silently, you watch Shane. His dark eyebrows are furrowed, and his hazel eyes are on you, hidden only by his floppy brown hair.

"Wow," he states, "you totally would've shown me up at Brown's." You give him a small smile, but you're still unsure about whether or not he means it.

"Mitch, seriously, that was amazing, the song, your voice," he tells you, standing, and stepping around the table to sit down beside you. You pass him the guitar as he holds out for it, and begins to strum the chords of the chorus, "god, your voice, Mitch. Mind blowing."

And there it is again, the nickname that makes your heart swell. And his tone, his demeanor, that makes your face turn red, and the blush spreads to your neck. You swear you even feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away furiously.

"Really?" you ask, and he nods, looking you in the eye, and making your skin tingle, and you believe him, just because he cannot possibly fake that sincerity.

"Want to tell me what it's about?" Shane asks, and you tense beside him. You've not talked about what happened then in months, bar writing the song, even then it was only to your guidance counselor, and you barely said anything, really.

"Maybe some other time," you tell him, and he leaves it at that, slowly repeating the chorus, over and over.

"That's cool. Have you got any more?"

**xxx**

"Thanks Shane," you call, "see you in the morning." You gesture to him, and he waves from the car, driving off and rolling up the window at the same time. You turn and look up at Caitlyn's apartment building. When Caitlyn turned sixteen, she bought herself an apartment in LA, close to Shane, Nate and Jason's houses, with money she had earned working on their albums. Her parents, who divorced at six, both owned huge fleets of cruise ships, and spent a lot of time on board their vessels, and were rarely at home. Shane even confided that he wasn't sure if they even knew Caitlyn was living in LA.

But, he told you, Caitlyn was very open about her past, and actually preferred people to understand about it, rather than whispering like she wasn't even in the room. She was, he said, happy in LA, at home by herself, and close to those she considered her real family. And it eliminated her having to fly out from Boston the entire time. In the end, it even served for Shane to finally realize what he'd been missing, being in his self-centered little world; his best friends were in love.

You reach the building's doorman, and he nods sharply at you. He then proceeds to point you in the direction of Caitlyn's apartment.

As the lifts open into her home (she lives in the penthouse, go figure), you hear Caitlyn's voice screech from somewhere close by.

And then they all come into view.

Caitlyn, along with four other girls, are in a pile on the floor, on top of what appears to be a twister mat. You notice that Caitlyn's hair is back to normal too. A nice honey brown.

"Caitlyn," one, a girl at the bottom, with long brown hair, splayed across the colored dots, whines, "that was your fault."

"Ella, sweetie, you were the one who moved when it wasn't your turn," a girl with light brown skin says pointedly, and pulls herself out of the mess. She straightens up, throwing her black ringlets over her shoulder, and holding out a hand each to the two other girls who you don't recognize. One has hair a light mouse brown color, that's so frizzy you have to consider it an afro, and the other has dark brown hair, wavy, that falls gently past her shoulder.

"Dude," the girl with the frizzy hair, her grey eyes suddenly on you, "we have a guest."

"Mitchie!" Caitlyn bolts from the floor, and careens forward towards you, knocking you backwards as she hugs you.

"Caitlyn," you wheeze, "hey."

"Don't 'hey' me," she scolds, as the other girls round on the two of us, so there is half on one side, and half on the other. It's rather intimidating, "what happened to you and Shane. Last time we talked, you two hated one another. The next thing I know, he's letting you stay in his house. He won't even let any of us stay in his house. He's afraid we'll kill his cat."

Ella, or the girl who assume is Ella, nods, this dreamy look on her face. Your eyes widen at Caitlyn though, and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"Oh calm down," Caitlyn laughs at your expression, "they all know. Dana is Eddie's niece, and Lola is one of Connect 3's dancers and back up vocalists, and Jason told Peggy who told Ella." You relax slightly, and send the girls a nervous smile. The girl who'd stood up first, with the black hair reaches out a hand to grasp yours, and shake it hard, "Peggy Dupree, nice to meet you Mitchie. We've heard a lot about you."

"Peggy is Sander's step sister," Caitlyn pipes up, "you met him at the wedding." You nod, and shoot her another grin. You liked Sander, and he was the first person to give you a glimpse of the real Shane.

"I'm Ella," her lips have stretched from ear to ear, and she gives you a genuine hug, quick and you don't have enough time to return it, but it was nice anyway.

"Lola," the girl with the grey eyes says, giving you a one hand greeting.

"Dana," says the other, the quiet, brown haired girl.

"Mitchie," you add.

"Right so, back to what Caitlyn was saying," Peggy orders, after a beat of awkward silence, "what is going on with you and Shane?"

Caitlyn snaps to attention again, and all five girls take a step closer to you, as you move backwards. Now though, they've got you cornered up against the elevator doors, and there's no where left to run.

"Nothing," you tell them, holding up your hands in surrender, "nothing happened. I was upset, so he said I could use his spare bedroom. Then we went to the theatre earlier, and I sang for him. That guitar you got him is crazy amazing Caitlyn-"

Their faces stop you in your monologue and you look between them all.

"What?"

"Holy shit," Lola breathes out, and Ella's eyes widen even further.

"He let you use _Caitlyn_?" Peggy asks incredulously, and as you nod wearyingly, Caitlyn lets out a low, long whistle.

"That's really something," she whispers, watching you now, with this guarded, curious look, like she's trying to figure you out, "I mean, Mitchie, I knew you were special, especially after last night," she gets this cute little far away smile on her face as she says this, causing the other girls to giggle, and back off you slightly, "but, man, I never knew you'd get Shane to let you play his guitars."

"I know," Lola says, "if it wasn't for this whole fake relationship thing, I'd say they'd-"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Ella chimes in perkily, "they'd be cute too."

The five girls nodded simultaneously, scaring you a little bit, and then move towards the couch. It's only then that you really take in Caitlyn's apartment, and it takes your breath away. The living room is semi circle, and the whole curved part of the wall is made of glass, giving the whole penthouse a stunning view of the city below it. Lights shone from down in Los Angeles, twinkling like little stars. It makes you feel like you're on top of the world, watching the people down below living their lives.

"What do you mean?" you ask, breaking away from the view of the city, and turning back towards the girls, who are now sitting on the sofas, legs pulled up underneath them, watching you intently, "they'd be cute too?"

"You and Shane," Ella says, bouncing up and down in her seat, while you're sure the disgust is written all over your face, "you've both got the whole 'outrageously gorgeous, and dark and brooding musician' thing going on."

"Come on," you scoff, blushing deeply at her comments. "that's ridiculous. Shane doesn't even like me that much."

"He not only showed you Caitlyn, he let you play the damn guitar," the girl herself points out, and pats the couch beside her so you move to sit down, "he likes you Mitchie. Maybe as just a friend, but don't doubt that he likes you."

As you lower yourself down onto Caitlyn's couch Dana nods, the quiet girl who's yet to say much. But she has this look on her face like she's imploring you to listen. It's odd, so you choose to ignore it, and turn back to the other girls.

"That's not what's important anyway," you disregard completely what she's said, and honing in on Caitlyn, "let's talk you and Nate."

That, as you suspected, does the job, and all girls turn from you to Caitlyn, who's eyes are narrowed as she glares at you. You give her a sweet smile, and she shoves you gently.

"Thanks," she whispers, and you nod. You presume now that she must know, that Nate must've told her that the two of you wrote the song together, that you helped fix it up. She must know that it was you, too, who convinced him to get up on that stage at all.

"Any time," you say offhandedly, even though you know how much this meant to Caitlyn and Nate. You and Shane were talking, in between the two of you playing and exchanging songs, and he was telling you things about his life, and his friends' that you hadn't known before. Like the fact that Nate had actually asked Caitlyn out once before, when she was fifteen. But Shane said something happened, something he wasn't ready to tell you yet, that caused Caitlyn to say no. From then on, it'd be really awkward between the two of them, and even when they got back some sort of friendship, Shane knew his friend would never get up the nerve to ask again.

Until you came along.

"No seriously though Mitchie, maybe she'll stop going on about him all the time," Peggy laughs, causing Lola and Ella too as well.

"Hey!" Caitlyn protests, but she too is smiling.

"It's true, you'd talk about him constantly," teases Lola, and she squeals as Caitlyn chucks a pillow at her, "I'm happy for you though!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever," she laughs, curling up into the sofa, and smiling in that way that only people who are really happy do.

"Could you imagine," Ella stretches tired out now, and yawns deeply, her eyes closing, "if both Shane and Nate were happy with a girl. That'd be nice, after everything they've been through."

The other four girls nod, and you sit there, confused, but choose not to ask, because you know they won't tell you. All you know is, you find yourself agreeing with Ella. That it'd be nice if Shane had the chance to be happy with a girl.

**xxxx**

"What the hell is my girlfriend wearing Caitlyn?" you open your eyes to the blistering sunlight as you lie out on Caitlyn's deck the next morning. The girl, it turned out, had the greatest collection of sunglasses you had ever seen, and you were currently wearing a pair she had lent you, that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe put together.

But somehow you don't think he's talking about them.

"So she's your girlfriend now, Shane?" Caitlyn's voice comes from the sun bed next to yours. The others left early, all with different appointments and appearances so you and Caitlyn had spent a lot of time out on her balcony, attempting to get a tan.

"She's as good as," Shane snaps, "Gellar, what is she wearing?" You kind of like how protective he sounds, even though you guess it's because the press would have a field day if they saw your current outfit.

"They're daisy dukes, Shane, with a bikini top. You know, like the song," you snort a little, and turn your head, to see Shane standing in the doorway into Caitlyn's apartment, in a pair of hugging jeans, and a tight t-shirt, glaring menacingly at his best friend.

"Yes, Caity, I know the song, I know that Katy too, incidentally. I'm asking you why Mitchie is wearing them, when I remember telling you to lend her _clothes_, not anything you bought at slutty-r-us," you can immediately tell that he's made a mistake by saying this, because Caitlyn's head turns and Shane, evidently scared of the look on her face, takes a step backwards.

"Are you calling my shorts slutty? Because I've worn them before. And you didn't seem to have a problem then," Shane takes another step back, before seemingly remembering why he was here at all.

"No, no, but Caity, I don't want to fight. I just came by because I think Mitchie needs to see this," Shane holds out something he's gotten from behind his back, causing Caitlyn to sit up, and throw a hand over her mouth. You're too far away to see exactly what it is, so you lean closer, but Shane has it hidden again before you can see it.

"Those assholes," she spits, standing up from her sun bed and marching towards Shane, holding out her hand as if she wants him to pass the object to her. The two of them face each other, and you can only see the back of Caitlyn's hair, but you can tell they're doing that weird thing that best friends do, having an conversation yet they're totally silent.

"I'll see you in a second Mitchie," she says suddenly, disappearing into her apartment, leaving you and Shane alone. You sit up too, on the sun bed, and he moves to sit beside you. You're not sure, but you think you spot him checking you out which makes you blush deeply under your sunglasses. Then you see the solemn look he is giving you and all thoughts of flattery disappear.

"What's up?"

"This morning," he starts, glancing out at the view of the city, avoiding your eyes, while he brings back around the secret he has hidden behind his back, for you to see that it's a magazine. And your face is on the cover, "I was out running with Nate, and we passed a stand, selling this tabloid trash. And we saw this, and I wanted to show it to you, before you saw it by yourself."

Glancing up at him, you take the paper which he's stretched out to you, and begin to read the headlines, aware that he is watching you, gauging your reaction.

**Shane's Arm Candy of the Week… Not Up To Usual Standards? **

You're flipping through the magazine before you know what you're doing, to the page that has a full spread of you and Shane, heads down, his hand gripping yours as you rush through the parking lot.

_Yesterday morning, Pop Informer spotted superstar Shane Grey at the movies- but he was with a girl. The mystery teenager and Mr. Grey seemed to be out on a date, and the singer was very protective of his lady when they left to get into his car after the flick. No news yet on what they saw, but Pop Informer wonders if Shane has lowered his standards. After dating Tess for over a year and being linked with the likes of Sonny Munroe and Tawni Hart, this girl seems a little plain Jane to us. We'd even go as far as to say she's on the chubby side. _

_Good enough for the Shane Grey? We think not. _

_And as for you fan girls, you shouldn't worry. We give this a fortnight, tops._

You look back up at Shane, obnoxious tears in your eyes, as he watches you read. The moment he sees you're crying though, he leans forward, and wraps his arms around you.

"It's not true, Mitch," he whispers, resting his head in your hair, "they do this all the time. They take something and twist it into something it's not. And you're not chubby, or plain Jane. Plain Jane's don't sing like you do."

You bury your face into his neck, which smells oddly nice, and the tears continue to stream onto his shirt, even if that's possibly one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to you. He's pretty good at that, you realize.

It's not that you've never been called names before. You're very familiar with being called fat, or useless, or _unworthy_, but still it hurt. You don't like being called those things, you don't like the memories they resurface, and you don't want to feel the empty stabbing in your gut that you got the last time.

"Hey, Mitch," he rubs your back up and down, and talks in a soft soothing voice, that you haven't really heard since you and your mom started fighting. He sounds like he cares, which is a lot more than anyone else has done for a long time, "let's do something. With Nate and Caitlyn if you want to, or alone either. We can go see a film, go to the beach."

You mumble something into his neck and you know he doesn't hear you, but he nods anyway, and you've never been more grateful.

Lifting your head though, all the tears dried up, you decide to repeat your request, "I think, I'd really love to write a song with you."

**Et voila. So Mitchie sang for Shane, and Shane alone :O And he liked it :O:O  
But yeah, I really hope you enjoyed this. I wanted to introduce the last of the girls, so the real drama can begin next chapter.  
Which, unfortunately, won't be for a while. I'm going to be busy for the next week, and the chapter will be a long one, so it'll take me a while to write. Be patient, and I promise you a good one :)  
Can you see if we can get to 70 reviews this chapter? I'd really appreciate it. :)**


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